Sea Lion Woman
by CardboardCreative
Summary: Galinda is used to getting everything she wants, but this time, two very annoying Munchkins stand in the way of her latest desire: Elphaba. Gelphie, with hinted Elphoq. Bookverse.
1. Springtime for Shiz

Disclaimer: **We lead such elaborate lives… not owning Wicked. Unless you're Stephan Schwartz or something. In that case: HOWDY!**

Note: **This fic is dedicated to a dear friend, GothPhantom. The idea for the story belongs to her, simply because she's fixated on saying "Elphoq" repeatedly. Probably giggling, too. This is for you, my monkey.**

**---**

_The Id- Psychological theory of the brain system where one desires something beyond what is necessary; associated with the want of something you wouldn't pine for if it were not already occupied. _

It was springtime at Shiz University, a season never taken for granted by the inhabitants, for all the time their dorms spent unoccupied. The spring weather was famous for its lightness, a perfect time to exercise one's fashion sense with petticoats and trendy sleeves, and heeled shoes for park walking, while still exposing enough skin to attract boys.

The expected rainfalls felt featherlike and were even welcome during picnics. Parties tended to last a little longer, and romantic relationships old and newly realized seemed more sincere than any other time. When the neatly prim flower gardens were not being pissed in, the university was a wonderful place for blooming love.

It seemed even Miss Elphaba had found enough to do that she spent a great deal out of her dorm room. At first, it worried Galinda – the green girl was practically one with the walls of their tenancy – but then the blonde settled. Though she scarcely made it back herself, expressing her conviction of dorm room imprisonment due to lack of social life, the miniscule time she spent there was usually alone.

That's not to say it didn't continue to unnerve her. Finding out Elphaba housed a social life, that there were people out there willingly her friends, came as a bit of a surprise, not just for her skin, but the girl's cruel demeanour. Elphaba had a tendency to isolate herself, even in public, as though everyone else did not matter, nor matched up to her capacity. _And they call me egotistical_, mused the blonde.

The only thing that really badgered Galinda about her green roommate's absence was that she tended to find herself subject to momentary scowls from her friends, being unfashionably late for their lunches and romp's though the market, being that there was no one there to zip the back of her dress or help with her corset, as she so often forced Elphaba…

"I play coy all day long," Milla whined, "maybe I want it as much as he does."

"Oh, you should never admit to such things!" Shenshen squealed, though her face emanated the scandal. "Where is your propriety, woman? It is that which will win you that boy for longer, postponing your intimacy."

"But he's just so… dreamy," Milla sighed, placing a lace gloved hand to her cheek. Shenshen pushed her over, a bundle of yellow frills flipping onto the picnic basket, causing the girl to give a great squeak.

"Young love," Shenshen snickered, her red hair curled and pulled back to better reveal her round face, spilling down her back in coppery tendrils. "If I may say so, it's a little jerky."

"But he's so nice to me, and the boy's practically begging," Milla mumbled, deciding not to return to her position, but readjust herself on the chequered blanket beneath them, gazing up at the clear sky, hardly besmirched by soft, barely-there clouds.

"There's no need to worry, dear, our Shenshen believes everything her mother tells her," Pfannee smiled, patting Milla a little harder than necessary, as if in consolation, but probably to muddle her hair. "She is looking foreword to a joyful arranged marriage upon graduation."

"Is she really?" Milla giggled, propping herself up to peer at the newly scarlet turned Shenshen.

"Yes, and I say you and your beau are entitled to engage in anything you wish," Pfannee announced. "It's not as though anyone will know. You have my blessing."

The two girls shared a giggle, and Shenshen closed her fan long enough to rap Pfannee playfully. Galinda sat demurely, listening to the exchange, deciding Milla looked like an overgrown sunflower, and Pfannee would probably spread the rumour that she and the boy in question had become quite intimate, whether they did or not.

"That's not fair, to make such assumptions," Shenshen said. "Help me, Miss Galinda."

"What? Oh," Galinda pursed her lips. "Yes. You let Shenshen alone, girls, I'm sure her husband would not appreciate your talk of him, were they married now. Wait until after graduation."

The two girls giggled furiously now, and Shenshen buried her face in her hands, mumbling about how she just wanted to make the right decision.

"I say, Miss Galinda, what is that glorious pendant you have about your neck there?" Pfannee asked, causing the blonde to reach up and clutch the thing to her breast. "It must be jade."

"It is," Galinda smiled, barely stroking it. "Encrusted with gold. I daresay it's useful in all seasons."

"Whatever did you find such a thing?" the other blonde queried, squinting at the necklace with interest.

"It's a family heirloom, actually," Galinda said, excited to be asked about the necklace. She loved it very much, and not just for its beauty, but the sentimental value it held over her as an Arduenna. "My Gran gave - oh."

Pfannee's head snapped eagerly in the direction that made Galinda hesitate, and hissed sharply. A mean smile formed on her painted face as she cooed, "Speaking of young love, it seems a farmer's been reunited with his crops."

The other girls looked, giggling furiously at what they met. Across the banks of the Suicide Canal, Elphaba and Boq were having an intense conversation, until the green girl mashed her iced cream into the boy's face. The Munchkin laughed, licking around where he was hit in the mouth, wiping off his eyebrows and flecking his coated fingers at the green girl.

She was laughing at him without the slightest hint of cruelty, as Galinda's friends did when something of that nature would ensue. It was odd, to see the gangly girl look so uninhibited. It was not beyond her to commit such racy acts, but never in that level of good humour. She was not giggling like a madman, but Elphaba was grinning like the Cheshire cat, handing Boq a napkin in attempt at apology.

"He's happy because _It_ ripened since he left," giggled Milla, sending the girls into another fit of laughter, Shenshen grabbing for her sides to cease the ache as she fell onto the picnic blanket with mirth.

"I'd say _Its _become quite lush!" she cried, wiping stray tears so as not to sully her make up.

"Yes, very _fertile_!" Pfannee shrieked, and the girls exploded into more fits of joy at Elphaba and Boq's expense.

"Wait, shh, watch," Milla demanded, her tone mischievous. "I want to see if they'll kiss."

"Why, that's absurd!" Galinda snapped suddenly, offended at the suggestion. Elphaba was not the type to display public affection, certainly not with Boq, certainly not before Galinda had the opportunity…

The three girls groaned in unison, taught the unexciting mannerisms of a society girl since childhood and never questioning it. Galinda preferred to watch as Boq and Elphaba did not kiss across the bank, but collected their few belongings and left the park. Where were they going?

"You don't think they're… you know?" she asked feebly, disappointed at herself for sounding mediocre, especially in front of these girls she called her friends.

"Together?" Shenshen asked. "Dating? Courting? Escorting? Wooing? Involved?"

"You become rather an annoyance when you delve into the thesaurus, Miss Shenshen," Galinda sighed daintily, watching a duck float by on the water, occasionally bobbing its head below, scavenging for food. Galinda reasoned she was much like the duck, bobbing in and out of necessity while she tried to stay alert to the outside world. She just didn't have webbed feet.

"There's something going on there, I'd say," Milla smoothed out her ochre coloured dress. "The way they were laughing and teasing each other carelessly like that."

"The question remains, though, is Miss Elphaba capable?" Pfannee raised her index finger, impersonating their history professor as he strove to make an impacting argument.

"Do you mean love, or intimacy?" Shenshen asked.

"Both, probably," Pfannee shrugged. "I've even heard so much as her possessing… inappropriate anatomy for a lady, assuming we can classify her as a lady."

"Such gossip, you girls," Galinda smiled faintly, chuckling at them as the duck continued to search for food, or water, or whatever it was trying to do. _Not drown_.

"One can only trust what they hear nowadays, Miss Galinda," Pfannee recited with utmost conviction, but then turned to the blonde Frottican with a grin. One laced with spite, Galinda noted. "That is why, in the case of our dearest green bean, we must ask her roommate for such information."

"I spend absolutely no time with her, nor do I enjoy her company in the slightest," Galinda lied, leaning into the shade and resting her eyes in a gesture that suggested boredom. "But I know that she used to spend every waking minute in our room, I had no privacy. The good weather rolls in, and all of a sudden I have the entire space to myself."

"Young love!" Milla cried excessively, then sighed. "I'm knee-deep in it."

She gave Galinda a lop-sided grin, a sort of silent signal that she wasn't going to pry. Shenshen shoved her playfully once more, a prude to every type of teenage enjoyment.

"As is the green monster," Pfannee nodded her head, "if she's spending so much time out. I reckon she may very well be spending all her time with Master Munchkin."

"Do you… think?" Galinda asked, more to herself. She opened her eyes; letting her them wander over her own body. "They weren't even good friends a few weeks ago."

She drew her gaze upward; meeting quizzical looks from her frilly company. "I mean," she cleared her throat to gain time to strategize, "she doesn't seem to have any friends, does she? It's odd that she would gather his interests so swiftly."

"Maybe she's bewitched him!" Shenshen exclaimed, crawling up to Milla menacingly while the girls eyes were closed, poking her senseless. Shenshen attempted to cackle as Milla was caught off guard, giggling madly and slapping her friend's hand away. "_I put a spell on you_," sung the redhead in a feigned low voice.

"You two, stop acting like this is a play yard," Pfannee scolded sharply. "If our Ama's spot your behaviour, we'll never be free of them. We'll be at Lurlinemas bashes… with our Ama's."

Galinda noticed that Pfannee seemed out of place in the happy scene. She wore a permanent frown, as though a smile would sully her appearance. Shenshen and Milla truly were friends, the blonde had watched their relationship grow since their first semester, and Pfannee never eased into trusting friendship. _And neither have I_, Galinda thought glumly, hazed in the breezy afternoon, _I'm off on the sideline, too. I'm like Pfannee, but I smile_.

"Galinda, do you think you could squeeze it out of Miss Elphaba to confess her undying love?" Shenshen asked, slipping back into their conversation when Pfannee shamed her and Milla.

"Um, for whom?" Galinda asked, wishing away the scarlet blush that was creeping up her chest at the question. She hadn't been paying attention.

"For that boy, oh, what's-his-name… Master Boq Thingy?" Shenshen waved her hand dismissively.

"If you really wanted," Galinda mumbled. "If you ask me, I'd say it's a boring subject. Oh, the ducks have started to come out," she pointed to a gaggle who were all bobbing their head in and out of the water, feathery bottoms protruding up from the rippling shore. "I want to watch them all try to catch my lunch."

Galinda slowly got to her feet, her fashionable heels not fit for running about the grounds. She collected her rye sandwich and went to throw it in.

Pfannee scoffed, stretching out her short legs over where Galinda once sat. "You see that? _Above us_, she says."

---

**There will be more Gelphie, I promise, as well as... Elphoq. I wanted to finish this entire thing before posting, but thought better of it. If there are any spelling mistakes that particularily tick you off, feel free to mention it. The button calls. It's says, "Clickety click."**


	2. Cover Story

Disclaimer: **When I first saw Wicked, it was… grand. You understand? And I was young, and awfully lonely. Hungry, and… hopeful… How could I know?**

Note: **This is still for GothPhantom, and in the spirit of that, I've got a riddle for her. You may all join in on the answer, if you think you know correctly. Okay, okay… what's short, Jewish, and homosexual all over? gasp! Who knows? (P.S- The word shmeld, Elphoq, is all hers.)**

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"Where were you last night?" Galinda asked with disciplined curiosity, busy pulling off her hosiery from beneath her layered dress.

"What does it matter to you where I was?" Elphaba countered, already in her shapeless nightdress, knees tucked to her chest as she peered intently into a chunky, pocked sized book. "Where were _you_ last night?"

The book was fiction; it was about a man who woke up one morning to discover someone was hired to kill him. He owned a perfume store in Gillikin, was squat an undesirable, having no idea why someone would want to kill him. He was about to come face to face with the person behind it all…

"Now how why do you - ah! You haven't answered my question," Galinda huffed, tossing away her stalkings and rummaging for her nightdress.

"Answering a question is optional," Elphaba drawled in a bored manner. "It signifies choice of simply voicing opinion. A demand requires one to reply immediately and probably in bias to what the interrogator wants to hear, for fear of bayoneting."

"All right, then," Galinda said, turning around to look at Elphaba. It took the green girl a moment to realize she was being watched, gazing up at the blonde, surprised to find her half dressed. "I demand you to tell me where you were last night, if you even came back – I didn't see you in the morning – otherwise, I will bayonet you to death with… that hair comb." She pointed to her vanity.

"Unless you wield it and shoot musket balls at me, hardly view it as a threat," Elphaba touched her chest mockingly, immediately reverting back to her earnest self. "If you insist on an answer, I was out at a pub. And for your information, _you_ weren't in bed when I arrived back home. I left before you woke, too. For a while, I thought you didn't make it back."

The blonde scowled at Elphaba's suggestion. "I was too back before you!" She faltered. "I just… went out again." Galinda had an odd look in her eyes and Elphaba watched the blonde's mental struggle. "Where you out with anyone in particular?"

Elphaba sighed, closing her book with a smack, and setting it down on her bedside table, the climax revealing the assassin's employer as the target's wife ruined anyway. "I'm never going to get some peace with you around. I don't know why you care so, but I was with Boq and a few boys."

"Dropping the honourary, I see," Galinda observed, smirking. She sat down on the edge of her bed, placing the strap of her slip back onto her small shoulder, for it had fallen to caress her upper arm.

"That's what happens between friends," Elphaba explained wryly.

"Who would have fed you such bunk, _Elphaba_?" Galinda giggled, stressing the fact that she ignored the honourary title herself, eliciting a little smile from her roommate, the ends of her thin lips laughing.

It's not that they were friends, exactly, and Elphaba had been trying to decipher for the past weeks what their relationship really was. For obvious reasons they didn't congregate in public, and there didn't seem to be a need, either.

Their exchanges in the dorm were snippy and full of raw emotion, as two friends might bicker or complain to one another. Acquaintances would snap at each other's whining, or simply speak civilly of nothing, Elphaba reasoned, so it meant there was something more to their spontaneous debates. Against her conviction, the green girl found herself hoping they shared friendship, or at least would form it some time. She longed for a female companion amongst all the testosterone of her… clique, if one could call it that.

"A little, twittering blonde told me," said the green girl, untucking her legs to lie on her back.

"I do not twitter!" Galinda pouted, sticking out a plump lower lip in habit.

"Yes, you do," Elphaba looked over at the blonde from her pillow as her dainty feet did not reach the floor from her sitting spot. The green girl smirked. "What do you call it when you come home from shopping and do that weird little dance all about the room with your new clothes?"

"That's not twittering!" cried Galinda, bouncing on her mattress in feigned anger.

"Would you rather I referred to it as prancing?"

Galinda shook her head. "So… uh, what were you and Boq doing at the pub?"

Elphaba turned to look at the blonde again in disbelief. If she was trying to discreet, she was failing, noted the green girl, but shook it off. She realized it did seem out of character for her to be out of the dorm room so often. "We were playing piano without our clothes," she replied nonchalantly.

The blonde gasped, her expression truly mortified, and Elphaba thought she saw tears spring to the girl's eyes. "Galinda, I was kidding," she verified, a little miffed as to how the blonde could possibly believe her.

"Oh, well yes, of course," the blonde waved her hand and stood up to look for her nightdress again, and Elphaba narrowed her eyes suspiciously. If she strained her ears, was that Galinda sniffling?

"Are you okay?" the rigid girl shifted, her tone etched with concern, but she decided not to move from her relaxed position.

"I've no reason to be otherwise," Galinda said in a confident voice, turning around to give a cheery smile.

"You didn't seem well a moment ago," Elphaba was still unconvinced at Galinda's attempt to brush off the sudden mood change.

"Oh, you're just dwelling for the sake of speech," Galinda snapped. "Now here's a lark - do you now what Miss Pfannee, Milla and Shenshen assumed of you a few days ago?"

"Blossoms?" suggested the gangly girl, to which was met with falsely high laughter.

"No, I made them stop comparing you to trees months ago. They thought you fancied Master Boq! Isn't that just absurd," Galinda guffawed, pulling a nightdress from her closet that was adorned with tiny, thin, peachy bows, flapping it to be rid of wrinkling.

"What's funnier is that your nervous voice would suggest you want me to give you a legit answer of it," Elphaba said frankly. She didn't understand why people assumed such things when those of opposite sex gathered together. If the case were always correct, she'd own a harem of very soft, effeminate (in Crope and Tibbet's case) university boys.

The green girl smirked, though it was indolently written on her face due to tiredness. If she began to read again, she gathered that she'd fall asleep and drool on the text. "And just because you were gullible enough to believe those twits, I'm not going to answer your indirect question," the green girl announced. "Because it is optional."

Elphaba extinguished the gas lamp on her bedside table and slipped into her scratchy, drab sheets, slowly lulled to sleep by the furious flapping noise Glinda's nightdress made as the girl waved out the wrinkles for longer than necessary.

-

"I daresay, Miss Elphie, you have to tell her there's nothing between us!" bellowed Boq, who was practically bouncing in his seat.

"Who's to say there's nothing between us?" Elphaba asked, looking at him seriously, spidery green fingers wrapped around a tall, tinted glass.

Their table was situated near the front of the bar, this day especially pungent of tobacco. Stools congregated to hold the group as, from the outside view, their faces were muted with the words, "PINT OF WINKIE ALE, GUARANTEED TO PLASTER!" Crope and Tibbet wore matching outfits, vests of complimentary pastels; Crope with leather boots Elphaba relentlessly lectured him on, shoving the boy's shoulders now and then to get her point across.

"They'd make rather the blushing couple, though, wouldn't they?" Tibbet commented to his friend, loud enough so that the green girl and Munchkin could hear, Elphaba scowling.

"Who do you mean, our Elphaba and Boq, or our Miss Elphie and Miss Galinda?" Crope asked, winking exaggeratedly.

"You'll have to outgrow your foolishness soon, or I'll be forced to beat it from you," Elphaba warned, though her tone was good-natured.

"We must weigh our options, my dear Elizabeth," Tibbet announced to Crope, slamming down his glass as he spoke, the other boy giggling at the nickname. "I don't know how Boq would hold under Elphaba's intimidating bearing," he chuckled, "you know, the things she bears. But then, with Miss Galinda, green would match pink."

"Oh, Lurline!" Boq cried, his head falling into his arms, which were placed on the table face politely. He cried out again from his brusque head thump, muffled by his sleeve.

"Quiet boys, you'll tear his unsullied view of my roommate," Elphaba ordered sharply. Though the words were sarcastic, she meant it, giving them a stern look to simmer. "I can understand why Galinda would have brought it up. The past semesters, I was on a leash from our room, and now I spend just as much time away. My options were limited before. And she brought up Boq because a) the girl is suffering with those society twits. She's practically choking on artificiality, and has to spit it out somehow. And b) to cover herself, simply put," she shrugged.

"Yes, to cover herself," Tibbet agreed.

"You'd best cover yourself from an onslaught of angry green bean," threatened the girl.

"It's so unspeakable and yet it won't leave my head!" wailed Boq from his sleeve, sounding incredibly nasal from straining to articulate through his fabric blockade.

"Of what, the image of Miss Galinda covering Miss Elphie, or you covering her?" Tibbet asked rhetorically.

"That's far too confusing," Crope reasoned, finishing off a gulp of ale. "I can hardly understand what the bloody hell you're trying to say, Tibbs. Just put all three in a pot and see what happens."

Boq cried out incoherently from his sleeve. Elphaba made to pet his hand sympathetically, but thought better of it halfway reached, deciding the boy could bear the brunt of humiliation just as well as she.

"Be nice, I was merely sharing a story with you," she said, her fingertips outlining he rim of her glass. "Besides, Boq, this must be the first time she's ever mentioned you singly."

The Munchkin raised his head, slightly cerise from squishing his face into the table, a slight smile forming on his face and in his beady eyes. "It would be, wouldn't it?" He received a chorus of silent nods. "That would be an accomplishment. Have you ever considered, boys," Boq began accusingly, "that when Miss Galinda was shocked by our sudden companionship, she was jealous for me?"

"No," Crope said, almost overlapping Boq's sentence, and the Munchkin's face fell comically, and decided to take a large swig of his ale.

"She seems far too bored to want to take a man," Tibbet commented, vaguely sober. "And since our unripe tomato is so completely vexing, she's a perfect candidate."

"That's true, I can image the girl enjoys some rough affection," Crope grinned lopsidedly. "Unless dear Elphie is secretly partial to cuddling."

Boq ignored the other boys' stupidity to turn to Elphaba, who was watching the streets, trying to overlook their friends as well. "Elphaba, I wonder if you could clear this mess. Take a chance, for me, as your friend, at least?"

"Perhaps," Elphaba quirked a brow to look mysterious, her emerald skin bedazzling to the sight in the lighting of the pub. Smoke swirled to the ceiling, collecting in pools of grey before spilling down again, and the jade hue of Elphaba's flesh stood out in the scene. "Galinda knows we're not together, Boq, you needn't _stew_ over these things so."

"She's worth it, though," the Munchkin began distantly. "Everything from her smile to her feet is wonderful. Those dainty, little feet, how they effortlessly slip into her expensive day heels, the way her delicate, creamy features light up at the sight of it, her eyes-"

"Please don't tell me you've resorted to spying through the window," sighed the green girl tiredly. "I think you've had enough since your voyeurism escapade. And your, while brave, very weak attempts at conversation."

Boq's ears blushed claret at the comment, Crope and Tibbet perking immediately. He had tried various methods to borrow Glinda's attention, whether it be spying the blonde Frottican (was there another kind?) through the glass, or desperately confessing his true intentions. It would seem that Elphaba probably did have healthier likelihood than he in the prospects at Galinda's heart.

"Boq, you little fiend!" Tibbet exclaimed, clasping his hands excitedly.

"We must join you whenever next you feel mischievous," Crope grinned knowingly at his friend, the Munchkin shaking his head with embarrassment.

---

**That was chapter two. I'm barely past chapter four at this point, but I'm trying to pace myself with updates. No one enjoys a slowly updates story. Once, it literally took me a year to update (insert garbage throwing here), but those were unique times of non-Wicked-ness. Tell you what, if you're honest reviewing (and you WILL review), then I'll speed up my update/writing ratio. Go, go, go!**


	3. Boom Chika Lacka

Disclaimer: **I have nothing witty to say, nor play-on-word to insert for this; I do not own Wicked. If I did, do you suppose it would have been one really long oneshot?**  
Note: **This chapter is pure stupidity. I've never written Crope and Tibbet before, so the chapter's basically an experiment of the characters, although I expect their antics would be much more... gay? Ehh. Onward!**

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Strolling through town was not uncommon for Shiz students, as it was their nearest getaway from reminders of assignments, essays, and upcoming exams. There was a permanent, inescapable layer of grime, political quotes or inappropriate pictures graffitied to brick walls, rickety fire escapes from street level shops leading up to rented out apartments. It held a degree of realism the students longed for outside of school, and here was a place they could pretend society had already integrated them.

The shops were tiny but of savoury acquisition, especially in designer attire and countless pubs. It was for tourists.

Galinda was window-shopping, slowly walking along to soak in potential buys, mostly just studying her reflection in the glass panes. Her golden ringlets hallowed her angular face just as she styled them that morning, her mouth set in an undying provocative pout that could turn annoying if she expressed distaste.

She couldn't concentrate; as Elphaba started the day long before she cracked open an eye. It was true, the green girl had a lecture that morning, but Galinda knew the schedule, and it had finished before the blonde awoke.

Her suspicions of Elphaba and Boq grew stronger, as the Munchkin boy went so far as to arrive at their door the other day, jittery and nervous. Upon seeing Galinda, he removed his cap and fumbled it, laughing nervously. She sneered at him, earned a scowl from Elphaba as she shut the door before the conflicting two had a chance to greet.

Now, wouldn't that mean Elphaba was trying to be wary, if she was conscious of Galinda's hunch? They ceased to bring up Boq since the night Elphaba left Galinda flapping her clothes anxiously. As well, Galinda couldn't place why she cared so much. Was it because she wished for something more from her indecipherable relationship with Elphaba, or just wanted the green girl at her disposal, as she was before?

_Perhaps_, Galinda thought, _I want her now that I can't have her._

"I don't know how I look in yellow, that last number was a bit amber, but still a good example of why I wouldn't usually-" Milla was saying, snapping Galinda back into reality from staring dreamily at herself, not really seeing her reflection, nor what lay behind it. She was always bored with these girls, and would rather be bickering about something she didn't care for with Elphaba.

"Nonsense, this one's going to compliment your shape!" squealed Shenshen, whose vibrant red hair was bone straight today, and twisted on the back of her skull in a way Galinda envied, but would never experiment herself.

"Are you quite done admiring yourself, Miss Galinda?" called Pfannee, who was holding the store doorway open for the blonde to follow.

"Sorry, dear," Galinda drawled suddenly, moving to alleviate the crude girl's arm. "I saw something within the store I couldn't help but gawk at. Since we will be attending the party at Three Queens, we should all look for something to treat ourselves. I may wish to try it on, with your consent to whether it be fitting or not."

Pfannee seemed delighted at the suggestion of helping the Frottican girl dress, her callous grin replaced with shining eyes. It bothered Galinda greatly.

-

"I said, 'boom chika lacka, chika lacka, chika boom!'" bellowed Tibbet, his dark coloured bangs flittering around his face as he sang, jumping along his friends.

"I said, 'boom chika lacka, chika lacka, chika boom!'" Crope repeated with as much enthusiasm, Boq singing along as well, but not as elatedly, and certainly not as loudly. Elphaba was glad he chose to walk alongside her; for fear that otherwise, Crope would have paraded her around as his pet salamander to alarm touring Quoxians.

"You know," whispered the green girl, minding her closeness to the Munchkin, "I don't see a single Animal on the street today."

Boq, losing his concentration from the song, scanned around the atmosphere before replying. "You're right," he agreed darkly, afternoons spent on Elphaba's influence waking him to grim reality. "There was an Owl in the bookstore, but he looked to be hiding out with those spectacles of his."

"Crope and Tibbet scared him off," seconded Elphaba, flinching, but not recoiling from the arm Boq linked through hers. The two boys in question were skipping along happily in front of them, jumping out at tourists occasionally to sing an especially deafening bar. A Gillikinese businessman lost his coffee as he jerked, startled, as Crope snatched his newspaper and yelled, melodically, "Show me the way to go home!"

"Isn't it strange, though," Boq continued, "that they feel they must hide from the streets? The marketplace used to be filled with kiosks run by Animals, and now there's a lonely Owl in the back of _Herman&Cowell_."

"Haven't you taken to consideration that they're being forced from here?" Elphaba asked casually, strolling along, spying Tibbet tinkering with fine china on an outdoor display, and pulled him back by the collar like a mother. "Omitting Animals from the streets is supposed to somehow constitute to people's loss of remembrance of them."

"Do you think there are Gale Force around, you know, sending them away?" Boq asked, gulping slightly. Tibbet ruffed his hair affectionately, and linked his arm through the Munchkin's free one.

"Nonsense, boy, they wouldn't 'send them away'," he replied rhythmically. "They'd put them in cages or bludger them in the head behind ye olde Ballyhoo Ice Cream Shoppe."

"Or both," Elphaba grumbled, not finding the comment particularly humorous, but then again, the boy didn't seem to be aiming for humour. "I gather it has something to do with Shiz, having the Animals talk to the students. No doubt we'd be inquisitive, not to mention positively liberal in our college plights. Mingling with Animals might open our eyes to the trouble they're in.

"Dr. Dillamond said his friend went missing last week in the middle of the night. A Wildebeest named Herbert, who lived a few blocks away from the town's exit. Could have just run off to escape somewhere, I suppose."

"They have Wildebeest flavoured ice cream at Ballyhoo today?" Crope asked sweetly, blinking with long lashes at the green girl, whose vert face scowled as she whacked him.

"Just keep an eye out, count how many Animals you see, and devise a ratio of humans to Animals," muttered the green girl. "I assure you, Boq, that if you add it up, the Animal population will have become extinct if the pattern increases."

"Well, I'd say that a bit irrational," argued the Munchkin, "why not think about them living in the Vink-"

"Oh, Crope, darling, look!" Tibbet cried, bumping into the other three, tripping Elphaba violently, but catching her slender arm before she fell. She shook him off venomously. "An old lady!" he pointed to an elderly woman wearing a horribly crooked, orange hat, who appeared to be purchasing paperweights.

"An old lady with a vomitifying ensemble," nodded Crope, halting to browse their next victim curiously. "What are we waiting for, let's go!"

They hurried up to the poor woman, while Boq and Elphaba went off to the side, ready to deny the boys if they happened to be arrested. There was a rusty fire escape overhead, hardly shading the natural light that fell over the town. It was about the only refreshing thing of the place, illuminating every corner of the streets, making it appear less gloomy and dangerous.

"We should probably leave them while they're oblivious," Elphaba remarked, watching as the two boys helped their prey select a good item, laughing heartily with the woman, who seemed confused but delighted by the sudden company.

"Let's just wait until she starts screaming," Boq decided, leaning against the glass of a storefront, hands bunched in his pockets to raise his trousers, exposing socks.

Elphaba stood quietly, looking at the uneventful socks before recovering her mind. She saw that he was leaning against a dress shop, the front case jammed with frills and layers of skirt, spring colours matching each other in the premeditated intricacy of the display. She gagged silently, taking pride in the honesty of her frocks.

"My feet ache from walking," Boq commented, shaking out an ankle.

The green girl tutted disappointedly at him. "You should know that walking wears at one's legs, and being of small stature, you're sure to shrink," she said thoughtfully.

"Oh, Miss Elphie, that means you must have been a giant once upon a time," Boq said wistfully, sailing over the thick glass, and grabbing for the green girl's wrist. He brought her over to rest her back upon the glass beside him with a threatening thump. "You know, a bean stalk, like in the nursery rhyme."

"I'm also very old, because I _am_ that bean stalk in the nursery rhyme."

Things were quite for a time, Elphaba watching passers by as they haggled to negotiate prices, or scamper around looking for a map.

"I wished things could be easier," Boq sighed.

"What?" she snapped.

"Just… everything," explained the Munchkin, shrugging. "This whole situation with the Animals, it ties to the Wizard, to religion. It ties into ruining our lives if we take a stand. I wish things would be simpler with Miss Galinda, if she'd just notice me…"

"She noticed you on Wednesday," Elphaba said, not one for sympathetic conversation, especially not with the Munchkin. "Albeit, she looked a tad unhappy, but that was because she had chemistry homework."

"No, it was me," Boq concluded. "Perhaps I smelt."

"You spent the entire time trying to figure out why she wouldn't like you when we left," the girl complained tiredly. "Please do not get into that diatribe again."

"All right, sorry," Boq mumbled. "But, just reason with me, Elphaba. Haven't you ever wanted something that's just out of reach? Just wanted to break the bind of what's unrequited, to be accepted by your… oh," he grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

He was referring to Elphaba being shunned by her peers, but the girl didn't mind. She was accustom to these sorts of slip-ups, uncaring as to whether or not she should sympathize with him. She gave him a curt nod with a devious smile to suggest she understood. Strangely enough, it wasn't the reaction she roused from the public that sprang to mind, but rather, Galinda's worried expression as she interrogated the green girl on her whereabouts.

Why did she care?

As if to comfort, Elphaba placed a hand on Boq's forearm, and he smiled appreciatively. She was hesitant of her actions, and brought her hand back abruptly, not keen on physical affection. They watched Crope and Tibbet, finding them grinning freakishly wide, waving Elphaba over. The old woman didn't look terrified yet, but Elphaba rolled her eyes, afraid for the trusting, old thing.

"Whatever the hell they want now…" she grumbled, walking over to them.

-

"You two young men look alike," Deirdre observed, gazing up at the two tall boys. "You wouldn't happen to be related, would you?"

Tibbet chortled. "Oh, my dear Missus Deirdre, it's wonderful you asked, although I'd hardly consider myself a young man."

"You wouldn't?" she frowned.

"I'm not old, not at forty-five, don't get me wrong," drawled the boy, delighting in the way the old woman's bushy eyebrows rose on her forehead. "But we are related, you see, this is my son," Tibbet draped his shoulder over Crope, who was grinning like a madman, cheeks pained.

"I though you might have been brothers, you look awfully young for your age," Deirdre was rearranging her pinnacle to get a better view of them.

"Well, he does take great care of his skin, don't you, Dad?" Crope clapped his friend on the back, playing along.

"The moisturizer keeps me young," Tibbet sighed. "I don't mean to brag, old girl, but you'd have a fit over how much tail I still receive with this complexion."

The woman was taken aback. "You're not married, sir?"

"Oh no!" Crope gasped. "She died! Don't mention it around my father, he's still sensitive."

"My wife, my wife, where is my wife?" wailed Tibbet, screwing up his face and peering around the area, as if onstage searching for his missing betrothed.

"There, there, I didn't mean to offend," Deirdre apologized kindly. She seemed a well-intended woman. "If I do say so myself, you've an odd family."

"We are," Crope leaned in. "He even thinks that my daughter is his wife now and again."

The caterpillar eyebrows were still raised in interest. "That's an unfortunate lifestyle, indeed," she nodded grimly. "But why would he think your daughter as your mother? So young?"

"She looks old for her age," Crope nodded confidently, "and thinks older, too. She earned a scholarship to Shiz at nine, yessir, nine years of age."

"My, that's remarkable," breathed the elderly woman. "She wouldn't happen to be here, would she? I'd be absolutely tickled to meet such a prodigy."

"Blessed by the Fairy Queen herself," Crope mumbled, turning around to spot Elphaba, a wild grin appearing on his face. "There she is," he caught Elphaba's eye for a moment and waved her over, ignoring her incensed expression.

"My wife, my granddaughter, it's all the same! _I love her_!" Tibbet was flailing in the background, slapping his forehead with the back of his hand theatrically.

"Will he be alright, do you think?" Deirdre asked, referring to Tibbet, who was now running in a circle with his arms above his head.

"Of course!" Crope grinned handsomely to reassure her. "That's my Dad, always over-the-top. He'll be okay once the people in his head stop talking, and oh, here is my beautiful girl!"

Elphaba's once irate expression turned unmoved by the time she reached the old woman, who jumped in shock, squinting so hard into her pinnacle that there was a possibility she couldn't see at all.

"You might want to stay away from your grandfather right now, Kittykins," Crope explained, petting Elphaba's hair affectionately, "he's having one of his episodes."

Elphaba played a role in Crope and Tibbet's little performances often, being that she was a useful candidate when it came time to shock the audience. The things they came up with were always worth carrying through, so that later, in the pub, they would laugh about it until ale squirted from their noses.

"Why did you call me over – er – Father," Elphaba began, off of the update Crope mouthed to her, "when you know how he scares me so?"

"You must meet this spectacular lady, Missus Deirdre," Crope introduced, spreading his arm to the old woman. "She was curious to meet you."

"Charmed," Deirdre mumbled gingerly. She regarded Elphaba, "Um, young lady, would Shiz be having a rally for you to paint yourself?"

"Oh no," Elphaba laughed, making it girly to exercise her acting skills. "My skin looks like this naturally."

The old woman stifled a gasp, absolutely horrified.

"It's nice to meet you, Missus Deirdre," the green girl smiled, extending her hand to shake. "My name is Kumbrica."

The old woman looked at Elphaba's hand outstretched in waiting, then back at the girl's face. Her eyes went wide with realization, and she bellowed out a guttural yelp. It transformed into a scream as she scuttled away.

Crope and Tibbet were laughing hysterically, clapping Elphaba on the back for her original touch to the performance. Several young people, students by the look of their clothing, also laughed along and congratulated especially the green girl, before trouble ensued.

-

"The larger size will cover your bosom," Pfannee advised.

"No, I am _fat_, and I know why!" argued Milla, almost in hysterics. "It was the treacle tart, oh my blessed Lurline, that's what it was!"

"Miss Milla, you're far from overweight," Galinda assured. "Now, I know you won't believe my judgement right away, but think of your beau. Why would he be chasing after you like a lost pup if you were unattractive?"

Milla's voice came from behind the dressing room curtain in the shop's farthest corner, camouflaged by the suffocating merchandise, and sounding surprised at her own submission to the fact. "You're right, I suppose."

"But your bosom!" insisted Pfannee.

"Yes, yes, one size up for that," Milla agreed distractedly, probably pulling her dress over her head. Shenshen was in there with her to help, going "Ooph!" as they struggled with the fashionable, yet unmanageable dress.

"I'll get it, then, you girls stay here," Galinda muttered, wishing to be rid of privacy with Pfannee, who didn't cast looks at Galinda without an air of suspicion.

Rummaging through the racks, the blonde's eyes wandered to out the window, where she caught glimpse of green flesh she'd recognise anywhere. Boq, leaning against the glass and facing one another, accompanied Elphaba.

Galinda's stomach automatically churned with upset, her fingers freezing in spot as she watched them laugh, occasionally sharing a thoughtful look. The blonde didn't need to hear the green girl's voice to know when she was being sarcastic or proving her argument.

Her breath caught in her throat as Elphaba reached out to touch Boq's arm, eyes full of something Galinda couldn't decipher from side view. Her breathing became rapid, and she wanted to march out and yell at them both for their obscene behaviour, however unlike obscenity it was.

Suddenly, Galinda didn't feel like facing the world. Another caught Elphaba's attention, and she went off out of view from the window, leaving Boq there. The blonde lowered her gaze to the lacy dresses dejectedly, crumpling beneath her small fist.

Galinda didn't know how much time passed, but there was a shriek outside, followed by group laughter, Boq walking away and shaking with amusement. It was followed by an uproar of people, signifying the police's arrival to break it up.

Suddenly, there was Elphaba again, this time alone. There were campus police milling about the outside, and the green girl looked anxious. _Probably the cause of the uproar, being that's she's the cause of everything troublesome_, mused the blonde.

Their eyes met for an instant, Galinda's heart constricting in her chest, dry throat collapsing. She collected her wits and waved furiously through the window for Elphaba to come in, and the tall girl headed for the door, looking bemused at the invitation.

---

**There should be more Elphoq in this- oh, and there will be. Something to do with Boq not having his pants on.** **::evil laugh::** **I wanted to poll whoever reviewed on how they wished the story turned out, or would appreciate more of: Gelphie or Elphoq? If you comply, I will make point of squealing.**


	4. The Farmer and His Pants

Disclaimer: **If I owned Wicked, I'd use my Super Cool to gain ownership of the Suicidal Mickey Mouse. Now wouldn't it be grand to watch the oversized rodent with a death wish prance along with Chistery? Pure magic.**

Note: **Oy vey. Chapter five up and running (meaning almost finished), but beta-ing is catching up on me, I'm afraid. In any case, here is a slightly depressing new chapter that should be enjoyable. **

---

"Galinda," Elphaba began, bursting in, her voice loud enough for the entire store to eavesdrop, "What-"

Galinda let out a strangled cry as the green girl entered the dress shop with an unreadable expression. The air was pummelled from Elphaba when the blonde manhandled (or debutant-handled) her forcefully behind a rack of considerably voluminous skirts in a vain attempt to hide from the three waiting girls in the change area.

"Galinda, to what do I owe this incredibly… ruffled pleasure?" the green girl stage whispered, bending her knees to be fully concealed, almost eye level with the blonde.

"What was going on out there?" Galinda hissed. "There are campus police all over, and you are a suspicious figure, indeed."

"Indeed," agreed the green girl, smiling. "Crope and Tibbet played a trick on an elderly woman, I joined in as Kumbrica, the gracious granddaughter."

"The granddau-" Galinda began to question, not so much confused as she was ready to laugh.

"I think, after hobbling away, she warned the campus police of our… misdoings. I honestly don't know what those boys were feeding her, but I was their dénouement."

"And this is what you do all day when you're gone?" Galinda asked, mostly rhetorical.

Elphaba shrugged. "What else is there to do around here, save for drinking yourself silly?"

The blonde gave her own shrug, feeling slightly elated upon managing to smuggle Elphaba into the store undetected, although they were exposed to the shop keep. Whatever took place out side was an excellent example as to why Galinda felt like hurling herself into the Suicide Canal every time she spent afternoons with Pfannee, Milla, and Shenshen; they lacked the sense of adventure Elphaba had, the mystery of the girl, and all her quirks.

The green girl's eyes were not darker than her hair, but lightly coloured, as though they might have been blue in another life. Galinda would not want to imagine them as blue; she was far too content with the light russet that could communicate what Elphaba feared to say out loud, whether they be whispering at night in their dorm, or exchanging quick words in the hallway that turned sour when any of the blonde's friend came about.

"Now look, your eyes have gone out of focus, you're not even listening to me. I'm just making you incomprehensive," the green girl spoke softly, raspy with irritation. She reached out (with the same hand she touched Boq, Galinda realized) to grasp the blonde's rounded chin to smack her insubstantially, boring her eyes deeply into Galinda's.

Galinda hassled off the hand that she would have otherwise liked to grab and slide other unspeakable places, emitting a whining noise. "Stop playing around, I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"You, making sure I was all right?" Elphaba looked at her sceptically, the practically nonexistent gap between them inescapable, considering their modish hiding spot. "For some reason, which I could not possibly begin to verbalize, I find that highly unlikely an alibi, not when you're in here with _them_."

Galinda tore her gaze away in attempt to subdue the blush that flushed her cheeks. Her breathing hitched when Elphaba's own cheeks, forever gaunt from her bone structure, turned sea green at the words neither spoke.

"Elphie, I'm bored," the blonde murmured, looking at Elphaba beseechingly. "You know I'd much rather be doing something with y- far away from them. They've no deeper thought than appropriate coverage of one's bosom."

"Kind of the state you were in before I was through with you," mused the green girl with a satisfied smirk, and Galinda smiled.

"I was not so dull, so much as… subjugated," argued the blonde.

"Neither did you pay enough attention to salvage your vocabulary from 'scandalicious'," Elphaba said, then letting out an unladylike snort at the improvised phrase.

"I just said _subjugated_!" Galinda protested, cringing when the sound of Pfannee's sugary voice erupted from the back of the store.

"Miss Galinda, we can't be waiting around all day! Some of us have to go to the restroom, you know."

"Ohhh," moaned the blonde, looking around desperately, before throwing herself at Elphaba, who was forced to hold her in return, nearly doubling over to grab dress situated behind the green girl.

"Galinda, this is hardly the time," Elphaba hissed, snorting when the girl's pale skin blushed again. "I wasn't the one who got you into this."

"Just stay here, and don't come out," ordered Galinda, inspecting the dress worriedly as she dashed to the other girls on her toes, slowing to a graceful saunter.

"And what if I just leave?" Elphaba hissed after her, but it was to late. She swore quietly, watching as Glinda flung the randomly selected dress behind the curtain to Milla.

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought the green girl back to reality, and she turned to attach a face to the noise. The shop keep was standing behind the wooden cash register with her drawn on eyebrow raised expectantly, arms folded across her chest, the bodice covered in frill. She stared at Elphaba with scrutiny, then flickered her gaze towards the door, then back again.

The green girl sighed, raising her hand to give the shop keep an obscene gesture, stomping out of the store and slamming the door so violently that the glass shielding of the display case rattled.

"I got distracted on my way to the other sizes," Galinda explained, almost too fast to differentiate her words. "Try it on, Miss Milla, if you see it fit."

After a few minutes of struggle, Shenshen cried, "I see it fit!" from behind the curtain. She let out another grunt, the sound of Milla's elbow connecting with her ribcage resembling a wet thunk. "No, Milla dear, stop hiding from me, you look wonderful."

"Well, come out," Pfannee urged impatiently. "I really do require a restroom."

Glinda hardly noticed what she'd retrieved behind Elphaba, but seeing it on Milla further proved her fashion intuition as impeccable, which she took pride in parading. It was a lightly coloured purple Mirandella gown, the plunging neckline turning into a fat stripe of lace down the bodice. The sleeves mimicked peasant style, but opened with much more flamboyancy.

"It looks grand," Galinda said, watching as Milla twirled once in front of a full body mirror.

"It looks regal, with the sleeves ending at your forearms," Shenshen commented, although it seemed she was dissecting the girl with her eyes.

"You don't think they're too… floppy?" Milla asked, wiggling her arms to express her fear, as the lacy sleeves danced around her waist.

"It's the _style_," emphasized the redhead.

"The colour is murky, but one can tell it's daywear," Pfannee said, as though it took a great effort for her to squeeze out a pleasantry. "This may be your number for the party."

They earned a warning "shh!" from the shop keep to keep their volume at a minimum, as Milla shrieked with joy. She twirled once more, and their conversations soon turned to babbling about bonnets.

"Hold on just a clock-tick," Galinda excused herself hastily, disappearing behind a myriad of dress racks before the other girls could ask of her behaviour.

"Where do you suppose she goes when she runs off like that?" Milla wondered, swaying in her dress childishly, the neatly patterned skirt moving with her hips.

"To chastise herself for not keeping this dress, I feel the urge to steal it from your closet now," Shenshen laughed, gripping the material between her fingers as her friend flared out the skirt for better observation.

"Did you see where she went?" Galinda looked at the shop keep from the rack she had been hiding with the green girl minutes before, fighting to keep the disappointment she felt from appearing on her face.

The owner shrugged, her horribly drawn eyebrows connecting as she concentrated on moving boxes the size of small children behind the counter. "Probably to go get watered," she replied nonchalantly. "You know, photosynthesis."

-

"As soon as class concludes, I am going to push you off of the Main Hall roof," threatened Elphaba, trotting down the marble corridor, huffing to keep up in her skirts. The sounds of her and Boq's boots beating against the marble ground reverberated off the walls, and they turned the next corner without hesitation.

"I will throw myself to avoid your torment beforehand," the Munchkin gasped, clutching his book bag to his chest as they sprinted along. "It's just down the hall, slow down, slow," he pleaded.

Their running turned into marching, Boq's rubber soles skidding across the marble in their quickened state. Elphaba's head snapped to one side to inspect a tall grandfather clock, sitting against a cold wall, like a homey accommodation in stone.

"Ten minutes late," Elphaba sounded on the verge of whining, instead opting to trudge up to the door. "You're dead, you're dead, you loathsome, little-"

"If I'm so loathsome, you'll still care for a drink with me after class, right?" he asked, patting his waistline to check that his shirt was properly tucked in.

The green girl pursed her lips. "Well, yes," she answered. "But I will continue to curse at you the entire time."

"That sounds familiar," Boq adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, looking worriedly at the door. "We should go in."

Elphaba didn't reply, but pushed open the door and walked into the classroom with dignity. She didn't bother to conceal herself as she walked down a few rows and slipped into the nearest seat inconspicuously, the person beside her barely noticing. The dark haired Gillikin wearing horn rimmed spectacles looked at her only briefly, his expression disapproving as the green girl produced her text and notebook, not noticing him, either.

-

History was the lone class Galinda and Elphaba shared on Tuesday, and the blonde was incensed that she was the only one of the former on time. She counted the minutes until Elphaba showed up, eleven (and four seconds), being that she always sat near the clock on the expansive wall.

At first, the blonde did this to be seen: if students were gazing at the clock to figure the time, their eyes would fall on her. And being the precious specimen she was, their eyes would linger. Now Galinda sat there to count down until class was over.

Elphaba didn't particularly enjoy history, although she read a lot of texts based on past leaders and movements, and had a certain aptitude for it, as with all subjects. If their seats were situated close enough, they would pass notes, which was an easy task considering the professor was half blind and usually misplaced his spectacles, which the blonde hypothesized was the handiwork of a rogue student.

Since seeing the green girl and Boq touch days before, whenever Galinda's mind wandered, Elphaba was waiting. It's not that Elphaba never touched anyone; in fact, she and Galinda had their own intimate encounter the night before. She couldn't help but feel nervous around the green girl, who wanted to engage in conversation during the now rare moments of peace together. Elphaba cupped Galinda's cheek and stroked it fondly with her thumb, asking her what in the bloody hell had her so damn worked up, in a kind tone.

Now, the dialogue was a reminder of why she enjoyed Elphaba's company, and the contact sent heat directly between her thighs. Galinda didn't dwell on it, tapping her pencil on her notebook edgily, which was riddled more with hearts and stars than educational scribblements.

She had been through Elphaba's history notebook before; it was organized, but her handwriting was practically illegible with loops and fast notes, doodled on the insides covers only. Galinda mused on how she needed some other train of thought to occupy her, but the professor sounded like he might fall asleep himself. She took a chance on listening to him, immediately regretting it.

"…The expansionary policy under floating exchange rates for this particular time slot…"

Almost heaven sent, the front door heaved open midsentence, giving Galinda something other to do than listen to the professor and feel her happiness slowly shrivel away. She twisted her torso to see the intruder, expecting a shy, apologetic student, and instead, receiving the view of Elphaba storming in and almost expertly dodging the professor. The teacher narrowed his eyes to inspect the class, but the green girl was already seated.

She seemed to be keen on concealing the extent of her muddled demeanour, forcing herself into even breaths, which meant she rushed to class, boots clomping down the corridor. To the untrained eye, wherever Elphaba was to delay her arrival was innocent, but Galinda was around the girl enough to know she was a decent actress when it came to true emotion.

"Oh, Master Boq, how wonderful of you to join us," the professor suddenly boomed, breaking out of his boredom stupor. The boy in question entered the class tentatively, clutching his book bag to his chest. "Tell me, boy, does the thought of grazing around a cow farm please you?"

The Munchkin shifted his eyes nervously, looking around at people as though they could provide a suitable response. "Um… uh, come again?" he asked weakly.

"I said, does the thought of grazing around a cow farm please you?" repeated the professor, standing still with a fixed gaze on the short boy.

"Um," Boq scratched the back of his neck perplexedly. "No?"

"It would seem that you do, as you're coming and going from my class like a cow, without care or schedule. Sit down, boy, before I decide to penalize you." It seemed being humiliated in front of the class was punishment enough for Boq, as he blushed, avoiding eye contact, to find a seat. "And for the love of the Unnamed God, tuck in your shirt!"

The Munchkin burned a deeper shade of scarlet, patting down his belt to realize he'd missed a part of his shirt, which hung out of his belt sketchily. He slipped into an unoccupied seat, meeting eyes with Elphaba. Galinda remained turned around to witness the exchange; Elphaba shooting him an accusing glare, and the Munchkin helplessly shrugged back at her.

Galinda resumed her natural position, eyes unfocused as she thought on other things. If both Boq and Elphaba were late, and they decided to enter the room at different times to eliminate suspicion… and Boq's clothes were sloppily thrown together…

-

"You look troubled, duckie," Ama Clutch commented, busy helping Galinda slip into her party dress. It was a pale pink with a sash to extenuate her young waist, and a rich skirt for dancing. "You'll wrinkle easily if you frown like that. Come now, tell Ama what's the matter."

"There's nothing the matter, Ama Clutch," Galinda sighed, accepting the corset that was put on her, breathing in deeply in preparation for its tying. The material was hard and coarse, and long hours of being held in were never enjoyable, but Galinda endured it for the sake of fashion anyhow.

"I could always ask Miss Elphaba to dig it out of you, the girl's very perceptive, I've noticed. A little too loyal to tell me what would have you in such a tiff lately, but it would help," the old woman rambled, fumbling to tie the corset.

"No!" Galinda cried, a little too eagerly to convince the other woman there wasn't anything amiss. Ama Clutch met the blonde's eyes briefly in the vanity before them, chuckling.

"I would assume this has something to do with her, then?" They successfully tied the corset in place, and the old nurse went to her charge's extravagant bed to fetch the other garments.

Galinda smiled shyly, knowing that if she didn't think up a better excuse, Ama Clutch would, in fact, ask Elphaba what was the matter with the blonde. _If there was a way I could ask Ama Clutch_, she thought pensively, _she's always given me such good advice_.

"No, nothing to do with Elphie," the blonde said dismissively. There was silence as Galinda pulled the dress over her head, taking care that it didn't catch or snag or ruin her hair. "What if there was this… boy," she began suddenly, and Ama Clutch's face spread to a wide grin, "and the situation of… us needing a little outside guidance?"

"I'd wait for you to keep talking, duckie, we're almost done with your dress," the old nurse said gruffly, fluffing out the bottom of Galinda's skirt, looking at it from the vanity.

"Well," Galinda chose her words wisely, "there is a boy, and I would, more than anything, like to win…"

"His heart?" Galinda nodded slightly, to which her nurse smiled kindly. "He'll come around, duckie, it's impossible to notice you with your good looks."

"That's just it, I think he's interested in someone else," Galinda admitted sadly, hoping she wouldn't come off as pathetic. "I couldn't be sure because he's so private."

"It wouldn't be proper of a lady to tear the bitch's eyes out," Ama Clutch began thoughtfully, and Galinda guffawed. The old nurse got away with her extensive vocabulary because of her status, and it always made the blonde comfortable. "But if she's standing in your way, there'll be a war to wage."

"War?" Galinda repeated fearfully. She shook her head and trained her eyes on the vanity to watch her curls bounce jovially about her face. Her voice was soft and passive at the subject of their conversation, wishing she could talk to her Ama with honest gender specifics. "I couldn't, it wouldn't be fair… I mean, we're only just friends, he doesn't know my intentions. If I suddenly came down on his girlfriend, it would make him angry. He'd never to talk to me again. It would be too much to bear, Ama, I lo-"

Ama Clutch stopped doing up the back of Galinda's dress, meeting the blonde's shocked eyes, her eyebrow raised amusedly.

"You're in love with him?" she asked doubtfully.

Galinda laughed falsely. "No, I couldn't… could I?"

The thought of being in love with Elphaba seemed unlikely, but not altogether unpleasant. The girl had an honest, courageous soul, even if she wouldn't admit to owning one at all, and she genuinely cared for Galinda. It even seemed she was the first outside of Galinda's house to care for her.

And even then, Ama Clutch would not have cared for her if she wasn't paid to. To her parents, she was a liability, and they were obligated to love her. She was social leverage to her friends, and past beaus appreciated nothing but her breasts. The blonde stared at herself in the vanity, feeling very lonely at the thought, delicate features almost trembling.

It occurred to Galinda then, as she stared at her blank expression in the vanity, Ama Clutch looking on eagerly from behind, that all the excuses others had for her companionship didn't matter, so long as Elphaba cared for her. As long as she loved her.

"Whatever it is you feel," Ama Clutch clapped the blonde's shoulder blades in finality once the dress was done up, "it shouldn't make you frown so much." They both stared at the blonde from the vanity, one vacant with internal fear, the other puffing with pride. "By the Unnamed God, you look even lovelier in this dress than last time."

---

**In the next chapter to come, there will be an angry librarian and the possibility of Gelphie cuddles. There is no story where they are absent- that's right, even Jane Austen was fond of Gelphie cuddling. Squint throught **Persuasion** and then review me.**


	5. Come With Me

Disclaimer: **Why yes, I do own Wicked. Only on Tuesday from noon until two pm, and Wednesdays for six and three quarter minutes some time during tea, though.**

Note: **I realize this took a while, but I lost inspiration for a time, and then school started up again. I realize excuses doesn't remedy anything, but it was not -that- late. Anyway, I must announce that drama class is my homeroom, and I will incorporate AZT and broomsticks if it kills me.**

---

"Her nose is fake," Shenshen announced, pointing to a painting in the booklet all three girls were given for an assignment, the photo of a woman in traditional garb staring back, unsmiling.

"It's more of a cartoon, really, of course the artist would touch it up as bit, especially if she was to go down in history," Milla argued, tapping the picture to extenuate her point, the figure's outline bolder than the rest of the body.

"Her bosom are fake," Pfannee whined, pointing to the cleavage of the woman on her own paper, and Milla stared down hopelessly at the one on hers.

"Cartoons are also exaggerated," she said, her tone suggesting that she was knowledgeable of losing the argument.

They were gathered in the Crage Hall library, a rarity, considering their social status called for excitement of activity. The tall ceilings held high bookcases, far from stuffed to the brim, for many of the upper cases were completely empty, as though girls were not as much of a concern for education as the boys were. Which was true, in the case of opinion.

Their Amas were gathered at the end of their table, quietly embroidering or knitting, but mostly just appearing as though they would fall asleep soon. The girls almost hoped for it: whose bright idea was it to meet in the library, anyhow?

"Girls, be quiet and do your work," Ama Clipp chastised in a hushed voice, balancing her knitting gear on her balloon-like belly, sitting with the front legs of her chair suspended in air so that she could rock back and forth.

"How are we supposed to do our work when we can't talk?" Pfannee challenged, shaking her booklet to create the sounds of ruffled papers.

"And besides, how could we possibly discuss the… whatever it is we're supposed to be discussing when there is an impostor in our midst?" Shenshen whined, pointing to the painting.

At this, Galinda swallowed the saliva in her mouth hurriedly, a wretched sound erupting in her throat as it went down, preparing for her defence. Scanning the table of girls, she discerned that they weren't talking about her, and relaxed in her seat. They tranquil surroundings of the stuffy space, the musk of books pungent in the air and the odd student searching for a tome, were being wrecked by the girls' presence as they chattered, ignoring harsh, warning looks from the librarian.

"Come on, you two, she was the," Milla squinted at the wording below the painting, slightly smudged by the great, clunking printing press the University owned, "um, first woman scientist to… do _something_, so that makes her smart. Be nice."

"It is not as though she can hear us," scoffed Pfannee, using her booklet to fan her face and neck in the stuffy atmosphere, and the air she created blew over to Galinda, sending a chill down the blonde. "And besides, if she was smart enough, she would have asked the painter to lighten those horrendous eyebrows."

Milla giggled, staring at the painting and pointing out the figure's undeniably awkward eyebrows to Shenshen. The redhead grunted, earning another hiss from the librarian, so she shrunk back before speaking mellifluously. "They can exaggerate her breasts, but not fix those hideous disasters? They're on her face, for Lurline's sake."

"They're not so bad," Galinda said absently, not even looking down at her open booklet.

Pfannee quirked a brow and scanned the blonde's face, folding her hands neatly on the tabletop. "Miss Galinda, that would be me you're looking at," she said darkly.

"Hmm? Oh no, I didn't mean you, I meant the scientist thingy…" trailed the blonde, her chin resting in a tiny palm as she paid no attention.

"Miss Galinda, whatever did this woman in the painting do to earn herself honourable mention in our assignment booklet?" Shenshen asked with feigned curiosity, propping her sleeve clad elbow on the tabletop to mock Galinda's pose.

"Doesn't it say she was the first female scientist to become a cartoon?" Galinda trailed again, uncaring for her friends' concern, their voices sounding much more distant than they were, her mind not thinking on anything in particular. There was a peculiar green tint to her vision, and she willed it away, most of her strength managing that than focusing on her brain, and its proper function.

"Miss Galinda, your booklet is upside down," Milla corrected, using one perfectly manicured finger to slide the blonde's booklet to face her, giving her other friends a blunt expression.

The Amas seemed to notice the absence of Galinda's focus now, too, and were looking at the girl with the same amount of curiosity as their charges, Ama Clutch included. The blonde had sworn her old nurse to secrecy about the 'boy' that she'd fallen for, knowledgeable that the old women would gossip, and eventually leak the information to their charges, being the hot topic that she was.

Galinda looked down at her booklet, curls sagging forward slightly. She began to realize what was going on, her cheeks turning a burning scarlet. "Oh!" she cried, and the librarian slammed a book shut, staring at their table with utter contempt. "Oh my Oz, I am so sorry, I was paying no attention!"

"Miss Galinda, it seems you have misplaced your brain for the past few minutes," Pfannee drawled, her steady gaze on the blonde laced with barbed wiring.

"A half hour," Shenshen corrected, pointing to the small clock at the head of the room. Pfannee shot her a withering look before continuing.

"_A half hour_," she stressed. "Any reason why you shut out your dear, considerate, compassionate friends?"

To any other girl, Miss Pfannee was quite intimidating, and in this state of innuendo, downright terrifying, with her eyebrows rising and her eyes blazing, her otherwise uneventful face holding back a snarl. But, to Galinda, the girl was no more than a social accessory, as she must have been vice versa, and certainly, the only way one may be hurt by such an accessory is if their hairclip accidentally bites ones fingertips.

"Ehm, Miss Pfannee," Milla began tentatively, the features seeming to be squished in the centre of her face, "it seems I've left my book bag in chemistry." Galinda's eyes wavered to Milla's feet under the table. Besides her expensive, yet otherwise distasteful heels, the blonde noticed her book bag to be resting quite snugly against the girl's calf. "Would you be so kind a dear as to retrieve it for me? All this walking today has worn me for good, I fear."

It was a brave step, indeed, for Milla to ask such a thing when Pfannee seemed ready to sink her teeth into Galinda's jugular vein, and her voice trembled for the slightest of seconds. Pfannee flared her nostrils and glared at Milla, but the girl gave her a pointed look, and Pfannee jerked in her seat.

"Fine, then," she decided at last, untucking from the uncomfortable wooden study chair, smoothing out her dress's skirt. Shenshen's chair sailed backwards as she met Pfannee's height.

"And I shall join you," announced the redhead, awkwardly shuffling towards the door. "Ama," she sang suddenly, receiving the attention of all three by the title, "we might be exposed to the charm of wickedly intended school boys while we're g-o-ne."

Galinda couldn't help but feel offended at the stunt, recognising it immediately as one she practically invented herself. Milla was now gazing intently at her as the Ama's shared a collective sigh, realizing too what their charges were attempting to do.

"You wanted to say something, Miss Milla?" Galinda asked, crossing her ankles tightly underneath the table, carefully premeditating what she would say.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," scoffed the girl, patting down her hair excessively. "But now that you mention it, someone in our little circle just hasn't been herself lately."

"Whatever do you mean?" Galinda furrowed her brows in concern, knowing full well where the conversation would lead, both their hushed tones unmonitored now that they were to converse of private matter.

"If it's that boy, what's his name, Master Boq, you can tell me," Milla said suddenly, her tone sympathetic. "My beau isn't exactly the most desirable, but I love him this spring just as fervidly if he were a Gillikinese fox. And as well you shouldn't be ashamed of what your heart beats for."

The blonde listened, feeling her eyebrows raise from their inquisitive stance to high upon her forehead, understanding what Milla was trying to translate, and let out an unladylike sputter in response before she could bite it back. The other girl seemed nervous suddenly, swallowing air and folding her hands neatly upon the tabletop.

"You think I-" began Galinda, then settled for pursing her lips. Apparently, she had not been prepared for the conversation to begin with that painfully specific turn. "Master Boq and I could not possibly last, my dear Milla, for if we were to court, my mother would have an aneurysm. That is to say, if I wanted to be courted by him at all."

"So it's not Master Boq that's left you in such a tiff?" Milla croaked, looking disappointed. The blonde mused that perhaps Milla was ready to hand out dating advice, ecstatic over her relationship, which was more rotund than the simple flings the other members of her clique were rushing through.

"I am afraid not," sighed Galinda, wishing to lean back in her chair, but figuring she would keep up appearances until she returned to her dormitory that evening. "May I be honest with you, Miss Milla?" The girl nodded eagerly, leaning in. "I do not deny my absentmindedness as of late, it is quite obvious my mind if halfway in the Vinkus, but blame the Spring fever which plagues this campus so."

"So, it's… _not _that you've fallen in love?" Milla's dissatisfaction was expressed on her face, mashing her lips together and flapping her assignment booklet on the table loudly. "But Miss Pfannee said-"

The girl's entire body jolted, ruffling her papers and earning a cross look from her Ama, and she stopped speaking, eyes wide at her confession, although Glinda pretended not to notice.

"It's not as though I wouldn't welcome it, Milla dear," the blonde said dreamily, noticing Ama Clutch give her a pointed look, the wrinkles around her eyes smoothing momentarily. "Do you suppose you and your beau have the seasons to thank for love?" she asked, ignoring the old woman.

Milla smiled triumphantly, forgetting the purpose of their privacy, and her sudden slip. "Why, spring is a lovely time, and I wouldn't be surprised if we were to be married."

"Married? It seems highly unlikely for one to be influenced by the season," Galinda responded, drumming her fingers over her lips. "After all, this tradition is borne from the animal mating season of this particular hand of months."

"That's a pessimistic outlook," Milla laughed, tossing her hair back to get a better look at the blonde. "Personally, I believe it has something to do with the winter being over and the call for shorter skirts, but Miss Galinda, do you not believe in magic?"

"I am to be a sorceress, Miss Milla," the blonde smiled sweetly. "You may remind Miss Pfannee of that, too, if you please."

Milla faltered, her eyebrows creasing slightly in a way that suggested mental chastisement. "Oh, yes, of course," she said quietly.

-

"At the Three Queens library," Elphaba announced, the door exploding open, making such a bang that Galinda jumped in her seat.

"I didn't ask," the blonde said, watching her roommate stomp about their room to return her belongings from her book bag to the various shelves on her half of the wall.

"You were going to," growled Elphaba, something obviously crawling under her skin as she aired out the empty bag hotly and placed it on her desk chair.

The blonde wouldn't admit that Elphaba was right, although it went unspoken as they both agreed. "I didn't think girls were allowed in a Three Queens facility, much like boys aren't permitted to Crage Hall. Have the rules suddenly changed? And, more importantly, why hasn't anyone told me I could be waltzing in and out of their dorms without having to sneak?"

"They haven't," Elphaba said. "I told you honestly in confidence that you wouldn't tattle it out to anyone."

"Oh Elphie, you know I would never," Galinda sighed, realizing that the green girl was raising an eyebrow at her. "Alright, fine, maybe I would." She turned around in her seat to get a better view of the green girl. Elphaba seemed flustered, strands of dark hair hanging over her eyes and a certain discomfort in her frock. Obviously something went wrong in the plan she likely laid out precisely, but Galinda would never find out unless she pried into the matter. "Alright, fine, I won't tell if you don't tell Ama Clutch that I sneak around the boys' dormitories."

Elphaba cast her a wry, knowing smile, then trod over to the empty desk on her side of the room, taking a relaxed seat. Her legs were splayed stiffly out on either side of the chair, long feet bare and stretched out, shoulders slumped. After a moment of recuperation, Galinda watched as the green girl immediately opened a textbook and notebook.

"So… how did you manage to sneak into the library?" asked the blonde, tentative over her words.

"Boq smuggled me in," Elphaba replied, her neck poised. It was a sign that meant she was ready to begin, that she cast aside her worldly problems to make room for progress, as Galinda devised from her secretly avid observations.

The mentioning of the Munchkin boy disappointed Galinda, and she felt herself deflate, and her shoulder slump. She cast her gaze downwards, landing on the table, inkwell sitting quaintly with an immaculately white feather sticking from its summit. _From its lack of use_, reasoned the blonde, looking down at her notebook to determine a scribbled flower as the last thing she'd written.

"Oh… eh, what a gentlemen," sputtered the Frottican girl, masking her disappointment poorly, but Elphaba was too polite in this position to doubt her friend. The green girl dipped her quill into the inkwell and peered up at the blonde for a moment.

"Hardly," she smirked, then began to write.

"What were you looking for, anyway? I mean, it couldn't have been any more than our library," the blonde leant back in her chair, wishing to be rid of her corset. "A few books… shelves… dust, dust, dust."

"But it wasn't," Elphaba objected, her voice almost soft. She had stopped writing, no more than a dip or so of ink used, and Galinda looked at her closely. "It is so much more… grand than our library. Galinda, it's overflowing with books, when our own stalk doesn't cover half the shelves," she looked up at the blonde, her darkened irises passionately swirling auburn. "Shelves almost extending to the ceiling, full of every subject you could ever dream of… botany, economy, histories, language, literature… Animal Policies," she finished flatly, turning a richer shade of green upon her outburst.

The blonde didn't know whether to grin, or just keep the dreamy expression plastered to her face. For if she grinned, Elphaba might think she was being laughed at, which would offend the green girl greatly, when the only intention Galinda had was to leap from her seat and into Elphaba's lap.

To embrace her, of course.

There was a yanking in Galinda's chest, of familiar sensation, for whenever Elphaba spoke about the things she truly held a spot for in her heart, her words and actions became overwhelmingly passionate. The blonde wanted to encourage Elphaba on the subject, but was used enough to the green witch's demeanour to know that this would only earn her a silent evening.

"Certainly Doctor Dillamond didn't persuade your trespassing prohibited grounds," Galinda spoke up, realizing too much time had passed while being consumed in her thoughts. Elphaba already returned to writing feverishly in her notebook, not looking up when replying, eyes shifting back and forth from textbook to blank page.

"What Doctor Dillamond doesn't know will not hurt him," she said impatiently, the paused, looking up at Galinda as she dipped her quill back into the inkwell, then back at her book. "What he doesn't know about _me_," she clarified, thinking better of the statement.

Galinda didn't bother questioning Elphaba's personal correction, for though she didn't understand it, the blonde accepted that she probably never would. They sat in the quiet of their room, unable to hear even the rocking of Ama Clutch's chair in her own room, being that the door was tightly locked.

"You'll be staying here this evening?" Elphaba asked suddenly, tearing the silence like rice paper.

"Are you?" Galinda countered.

"I do believe I maintain the rights to my own actions," the green girl said, halting her hand again, this time just above the paper, as though it was impervious to ink blots. "And if I wish to spend time away from this here room, it's not entirely up to you, Miss Galinda."

"Miss Galinda? Oh, that's clever," scoffed the blonde. "I wouldn't expect you embark on 'dear', or 'darling', or 'pet', but for the love of Lurline, do you have to use a title?"

"I wish to use a title," Elphaba said simply, looking down at her page with a frown. A droplet of ink was bleeding through the paper stitching, approaching her notes ominously, before she used a pointed nail of her thumb to scrape it in the opposite direction. "Terms of endearment provide nothing but false, misleading allusions and imply ignorant disrespect. And in that justification, you cannot dispirit me."

"Fine then, Miss Big-Long-Stupid-Words," Galinda huffed, lifting one half of her notebook and letting it fall to the other with a soft thump. The reaction was displeasing, so she slammed her textbook shut, then crossed her arms to sulk.

She shouldn't have been worked up by Elphaba's stubbornness, and in any other situation, she would have reacted politely and indifferently. But in this situation, Galinda wanted the green girl to greet her with terms of endearment. If she let her imagination wander, she could hear Elphaba call her a thousand loving things, though all distant, in whispers, as though the green girl was resisting even in someone else's mind.

The green girl lifted her eyes to peer at Galinda, who was watching the wall and clutching her arms defensively. Her flustered ferocity was considerably appealing in comparison to the fake refinement of ladyhood, which she stuck to so often, and the green girl was surprised to find her still wearing her day clothes, unless she planned an evening trip. She looked down at her notes, finding her work illegible, the culprit being that her mind was elsewhere. Elphaba let her writing utensil fall to the desk, hiking her skirt to cross her legs and turn to face Galinda fully.

"What is this really about, Galinda?" she asked, tone even a stern, although the blonde still refused to look at her. "It's been this way for weeks on end, and I can't understand why you're acting like such a… prude!" The side of the blonde's face was cascading with locks of hair, hiding her profile. "It's not in your demeanour with me to act this way, I'm _concerned_."

"Your foot," addressed Galinda darkly, not looking at Elphaba, nor allowing emotion into her voice, "please shove it somewhere unpleasant."

"Now that sounds like something I would say," smirked the green girl. "It's Boq, isn't it?" she asked pensively, wincing in preparation for an inevitable outburst.

Galinda arches her eyebrows and finally glared in Elphaba's direction. "Why does everyone keep thinking that?" she cried exasperatedly.

"How do you mean?"

"Never you mind, you… you…" the blonde skimmed through her vocabulary of foul things and came up short, although her obvious intent did not deter her roommate.

"What else to you expect me to do, Galinda? I enjoy his company, and I won't wait around forever for you to come back from your asinine gallivanting with those harebrained girls," Elphaba argued, watching the blonde closely.

"That's not why I'm angry," objected Galinda, crossing her arms tightly about her chest, pouting at the green girl.

"I'm not adjust to going out this often, either, but Boq insists I join him. And now Crope and Tibbet drag me out at all hours, whether I agree or not. They want my advice on Sunday bonnets," smirked Elphaba, trying to get a laugh from her roommate.

"I'm angry because you were being rude to me," huffed Galinda.

"He's really a dear boy, Galinda. A little naïve, but I'm working on it," the green girl added, her long fingers finding their way to her mouth, where she chewed a nail thoughtfully. "Why do you denounce our friendship? Or, more importantly, why are you letting _ours_ suffer?"

Galinda's eyes prickled with tears, and they fell down her face as she shook her head, as though that would get rid of the fact that Elphaba figured her out so easily. Whether frustration or embarrassment, even she couldn't tell the stem of her own upset. The green girl was acting kindly now, but when her mood changed, the possibilities of their friendship surviving looked meagre, to Galinda, anyway.

"I am _not_-" she began, her voice wavering slightly, but she hesitated when her eyes met Elphaba's.

The other girl was staring at her intently, thin, pine coloured lips barely parted. Galinda imagined that her breath was slowly moving in and out between her lips; cool as it was inhaled, and hot as it passed into exhalation. The blonde wanted to shiver, but was being watched too closely.

"Come to dinner with me," Elphaba said, not a trace of jest in her tone.

"Wh-what?"

The green girl looked down at her intertwined hands, smiling to lessen how noticeable the blush on her flesh was, not at all cowed by Galinda's sudden tired, drawn, awed expression, the blonde's entire face relaxed in a way that suggested complete incoherence.

"I-I mean, come to dinner with me. This Friday- it's the only time I could possibly bring you with me. It would be with others, of course," added the green girl, looking up to take in Galinda's reaction, which still hadn't changed. "Boq and Crope and Tibbet, perhaps others. Boys are so indecisive, I find… Unless you don't want to. You don't have to. Galinda, are you listening?"

Galinda was focusing on breathing, reasoning that her corset was probably tied too tightly. It felt as though the outside of her chest was made of brick, while the inside was weightless and full of… fluttering. It would be her heart that was making that sensation, the beating of it embarrassingly fast and strident. She realized Elphaba was watching her, biting her lip now, the only source of nervousness available, since the rest of her expression was blank and unreadable.

"Could I… think about it?" asked the blonde, discovering that drawing air into her lungs was a suitable starting point for breathing.

The green girl's face spread into a coy smile. "It wouldn't be where your friends would see," she prompted.

"Elph-Elphaba, could you come over here, please?"

The smile slipped from the green girl's face, but she obeyed as if the blonde was a highest authority, not that Elphaba was partial to obedience of any kind, from Galinda's supervision. She walked nimbly, barefoot and balanced, towards the blonde, crouching down to meet eye-level with the blonde, lurched as she was pulled into a ferocious hug.

Galinda wrapped her arms around her roommate tightly, buying her face into the crook of the green girl's neck and inhaling deeply. At first, Elphaba's stiffened, but eventually relaxed into the embrace and returned it reluctantly.

"You could take me anywhere, I don't care where, I would go," Galinda remarked, hoping it would be answer enough.  
Elphaba wasn't smiling when the blonde let go of her, but lightly swept her fingers against the other girl's pale neck, leaning up from her hunkered position to brush her lips against Galinda's forehead.

"You are acting so strangely," she said, her mouth moving on the blonde's skin, unconscious of how Galinda was reacting to the feel of her breath. "I wish you would just tell me, so we could fix it."

---

**... And that was chapter five. It ended a tad schmulzy, but I figured there needed to be some mutual Gelphie, even if it was unconcious. Tell me what you thought of it, because I ap-er-ece-ah-ah-ate it. By the way, I receive reviews from those who either don't log on or don't have an account, and wanted to extend my thanks for their input as well. **


	6. Five Person Date

Disclaimer: **And with a thousand sweet disclaimers, I'll disown you. It's not quite Angel, but what they hey.**

Note: _**Technically**_**, it hasn't been a full month. I'm so innocent, you'd think I was an inanimate thingy. **

---

The _entire _restaurant was non-smoking.

That's what troubled Milla the most, that amongst the entirety of the hang out, most Shiz students took to smoking tobacco and other unheard of and fantastically avant-garde substances (if they were daring enough), but deemed the most popular. It wasn't a tavern, where one would visit with their friends for a quick drink after lectures, but an almost-formal bistro that was never quite full, despite its reputation on campus.

This unnerved Milla due to her beau, who was partial to tobacco, and therefore refused to stay longer than a half hour with her in a booth, inaugurating time away from one another while the girl went to dine with her friends. This, she found both infuriating and incredibly immature on his part: the restaurant was all the rage to be seen in, and well established in the off campus town. There was even rumour of touring princes coming to get a literal taste of Shiz University ethos, and he was neglecting her for the sake of amusement.

Perhaps Miss Galinda was correct, that spring was just a brightly painted season and nothing more, the thought causing Milla to slump in her seat, ashamed at her assumption of marriage. But then, with that thought came the idea, if she were to be married, she and betrothed would have to create time separate from one another to air in a little sanity.

_Fie on Galinda's sour mood_, Milla decided at last, twirling her drink with a stir stick more spastically than necessary, bringing her attention back to the conversation at hand.

"She's a sweet girl, but I don't want her to be seen with us here, of all places," Shenshen was saying, sitting primly in her seat, hair pulled back but hanging to her shoulders in a regal sweep. "Did you hear what happened last weekend?"

"With Miss Annabelle, it's not like you can _escape_ hearing," Pfannee chuckled, her eyes laced with brittleness like her dress was laced with pink, and stylishly so. Milla always thought vindictiveness was much more fitting on the girl in comparison to a good-natured smile, probably because Milla was yet to see it. "What goes on behind closed doors, girls, is always set up to be uttered around us. But a secret of such weight…"

"Two boys," tutted Shenshen. "And I liked her so."

"_Three_," corrected Pfannee. Her side of the table was empty, save for herself, being that Galinda would often sit beside her. Milla remembered the blonde mention once that she did this to avoid looking upon the other girl.

"We've come to the conclusion ages ago that our clique remains a solid four," Milla interjected, ignoring Pfannee's scoff at the number. "Smaller groups lead to fewer corruptions, and don't we know it well."

"There's something that troubles you, Milla dear," Shenshen observed. Milla peered up at her friend in the dim evening light of the restaurant, the aura forever hazy blue, to discover the girl seemed genuinely concerned. It's not as though Milla wouldn't have expected it, but it did surprise her that the redhead turned away from Pfannee so suddenly.

"Yes, the twinkle in your eyes is a tad dull this night," agreed Pfannee, her remark obviously one of mockery. "Don't tell me it's your beau who's put you in this state?"

"You've looked perturbed all afternoon," Shenshen added, her voice softer now. Milla looked from the redhead to the blonde, trying to decide how to approach the subject.

"While I'm not fond of leaving my beau on campus, he's not the trouble," she admitted, letting go of her stir stick to lean in. "It's Miss Galinda."

"She was being quite asinine this morning," Pfannee nodded along, leaning in also, in the fashion of sharing gossip.

"But, wasn't she!" roared Shenshen, a little too loudly. Pfannee shot her a cold look and dragged her to mid table by the elbow, beckoning a quieter continuation. "Something's been off with that girl as of late, but today it was as though we didn't even exist. I haven't seen her since chemistry, and even then, she didn't so much as complain."

"It was odd to see her read from the textbook, wasn't it?" Milla echoed her trepidation, thinking back to that morning, where the blonde in question denied their concerns and seemed to float away in a daze.

"Perhaps sorcery's finally loosened her head," Pfannee scoffed, flipping her hair behind a shoulder. "It's a numinous art, and I wouldn't be about to deny it, but those who think of it passionately, as our Miss Galinda has, tend to get lost." She was met with confused expressions. "Not _lost in the woods_ lost, but… you know… _lost_."

Shenshen let out a tiny, "Ooh.", seeming apprehensive, but Milla looked upon her friend and nudged her in the ribcage angrily.

"That's nonsense, Miss Pfannee; Galinda's got a sturdy head on her shoulders. I know her family, and not one of them has ever misplaced their minds so," chastised the dark haired girl. She fluffed out her skirt crossly, as a peacock might intimidate its enemy. "She has not expressed any irresponsibility with sorcery, and cannot, in fact, do something simple as hovering a notebook. Now, if you please, it is not her sense I doubt. It is her heart."

"Her heart?" Shenshen quirked a brow dubiously. "Not again, Milla."

"Let her speak," Pfannee waved polished fingers absently, an unnerving smile playing across the edges of her lips. "You're sure Miss Galinda didn't mention anything notable when you two spoke in the library?"

"Oh my, the library- I'm having trouble coping after setting foot in that place," Shenshen cried, lifting the back of her hand to her forehead theatrically.

Milla ignored Shenshen's exaggeration, mistaking the redhead's attempt at diverting the subject for stupidity. "Well, I suppose she never really answered my questions," said the girl thoughtfully.

"So one might suppose she has fallen in love, and just doesn't want us to know?" the blonde's smile, which might have been but a phantom before, presented itself slightly.

"I didn't say _that_," Milla drawled. "But perhaps she wants to."

"So you'd say Miss Galinda is after what every girlish heart desires-" proceeded Pfannee, her gaze not altogether focused on their table.

"Our food!" Shenshen interrupted. She scrunched her face into a childish expression and clutched the area below her bosom, still hoping one or the other girl would drop the subject. Miss Galinda accounted for the principal of their knot, and where she there now and quite deaf, the redhead was sure she'd communicate the entire conversation the other two were having through guilty eyes. "My, the day is late and so is the waiter."

"Shush, Shenshen, and mind some patience," Pfannee hissed, leaning in closer to address Milla. "So, what you imply is that perhaps Miss Galinda would be longing for the same excitement of your little springtime escapades, but drawn away from it for… whom she might covet?"

"Now that you mention it, that does seem plausible," Milla tapped a polished finger to her lips, thinking back to the nervous blonde in the library. "She did say she wouldn't deny love, if she did, indeed, fall into it."

"And what was that part about breeding?" asked Pfannee bluntly, earning a sputter from Shenshen, Milla's stir stick clattering to the wooden floorboards under the table.

"Why, Miss Pfannee!" the dark haired girl scolded, taken aback, yet Pfannee's devious expression didn't subside. "She said- she said something about people falling in love during springtime being just an instinct, as animals mate."

"And enlighten me, Miss Milla, for I fear snoozing in life sciences has caught up with me," the blonde's little smile turned into a full on grin, her lips twitching with the failed effort to subdue her exultance. "May two females of the same species breed offspring?"

"Certainly not!" scoffed Milla, but her eyebrows practically folded over her eyelids when she saw Pfannee's expression become even more amused. "What are- what are you playing at?"

"It's well established, yes, but now, aid my ignorance further. May two females of separate, yet similar, species breed offspring?" Pfannee rested her weak chin on a hand.

"Oh! I know this one!" Shenshen called excitedly. She held a stir stick in her hand, waving it around as she spoke, like an orchestration was to be directed. "Species of similar characteristics may breed but not produce, being that the D- what does this have to do with Galinda, Miss Pfannee?"

The blonde sucked in air through her teeth, triumphant as she pointed a finger in the direction at the completely opposite end of the room. The two girls peered down her hand to follow what she meant. Milla was the first to gasp, more so for Pfannee's awful assumption, as well as the sight.

"Love is in the air, girls," jeered Pfannee, raising her once pointed fingers to a passing waiter. "Check, please!"

-

Somewhere along the lines of jesting and wine from a horridly souring year, the memory of how inhibited she was supposed to keep faded to Galinda. They'd discovered that Tibbet's flatulence jokes, which didn't take much prompting to get started, but a lot of hassle to shut up, made the blonde snort profusely as she wailed with laughter. And she didn't even enjoy such comedy.

Elphaba was sitting across from her in the booth, and, in way of the boys, became the finest feminine specimen there could be, even when she cast her own rude comments into the jokes. Her legs were crossed beneath the table, causing her to lean, like a bias survey of sorts, towards Boq, who was sitting beside her with a half mirthful, half awful expression. Even if Galinda was sitting across from him, giggling in high-pitched octaves that became undeniably contagious to the partially drunk friends, she was an unlikely new addition to this weekend routine.

Crope leaned over Tibbet slightly to inspect Galinda's face as she took a sip of wine, her eyebrows raised as she realized. "You," he said, speaking in monotone, "you're prettier than I am."

"I should certainly hope so!" the blonde chuckled, noticing Elphaba shake her head and engage conversation with the other Munchkin. "But you, you're harrier than I. One might call it a fair deal."

"How are we supposed to lay down with that evidence without a trace of proof?" Tibbet mock slammed his fist onto the table, where his plate wobbled meekly. "Miss Elphaba! I should be so inclined to call you to the stand."

Elphaba turned her face away from Boq to give the three across the table a sober glare. "If you're implying I would know the difference between how much body hair differentiates between Crope and Galinda, having seen both of them in their natural bathing suits, than you're gravely mistaken. Perhaps Boq could assist you in that tomfoolery."

Galinda blinked with a blank expression, not noticing the sudden dark scarlet colour Boq's cheeks had burned, and the pointed look Elphaba gave him upon returning to their debate. Words like, 'segregation', 'refugee', and 'terror' were heard occasionally, which brought to mind horrible things in the blonde, and almost ruined her mood.

Almost.

"As the hoodlums say, I think we've just been _told_," Tibbet raised a finger like an intellect to demonstrate his point.

"Silly idiot, we are hoodlums," Crope guffawed.

Galinda peered at them closely. "If you're both hoodlums, why don't you smell foul?"

"She smelt me!" Tibbet cried out, falling back against the booth as though to faint. "Oh, Miss Galinda Arduenna, you really care!"

"That's because that sweaty man fragrance is only for boys like Master Avaric," Crope nodded along to his convictions. "Even as bums, we're still quite mannered."

"That's not to say one wouldn't enjoy the sweaty presence of a boy like Avaric," added Tibbet, still leaning back against their booth, which divided their group from the remainder of the restaurant.

Galinda waved a hand, speaking as though they were amateurs and she was the queen bee. "Oh, please," she scoffed. "I would much prefer being here than in his company. Master Avaric is a self centred louse who's got one track to his mind, and it wouldn't make for the brightest public announcement."

"It would certainly brighten _my_ public," Tibbet mused, earning a rough looking elbow to the ribs by his friend.

"_Exsqueeze_ me." Crope simulated an obvious coughing sound, Tibbet nodding in response as he rubbed his sore ribcage.

"Alright, fine, it would certainly brighten _our_ public," he amended.

"Speaking of which, not to offend, but… why _are _you here?" Crope ignored Tibbet's refusal to calm down. Galinda looked at him, then to Elphaba, who was too busy speaking with Boq to notice a thing, although her last comment was exemplary to her multitasking listening.

"Elphaba asked me to come along," she shrugged, hoping that would be enough.

"At the expense of coming here? It's about the most modish place at Shiz right now, you know," said Crope.

Galinda gave him a steady look, unconsciously reinforcing her social superiority with a single glance. "I'm well aware. It also happens that Miss Elphaba is my friend," she ended with a whisper, as though this were a secret to the table. "Why else do you think we came here, unless under my suggestion, hmm?"

"And this would have noting to do with… you know… that good looking steed sitting beside her?" Tibbet asked, not exactly quietly, but so enough as not to embarrass Boq further. Galinda glanced at the Munchkin boy, whose expression was as grave, if not as sharp, as Elphaba's.

"Um, thank you, but no thank you," declined the blonde, tossing her curls with a bit of sneer. "I prefer a man of my own cultural standing. And he's not exactly… stylish, now, is he?"

"That's not what I meant," Tibbet blurted, but the other boy overlapped his words to compensate for the otherwise obvious insinuation.

"Depends," Crope took a swig of his wine, "on whether you can make him the perfect seasonal accessory with only your own clout. Then all the other girls will want to make the Munchkins on campus very lucky men."

"Psh," Tibbet scoffed, finishing his glass of rusty coloured wine, "I am from the Glikkus."

"I certainly have the power," Galinda began confidently, "but I find it's something I just don't want to do."

"You mean, _he_ is just something you don't want to do."

Glinda snorted. "Certainly _not_."  
She noticed the two boys share a look, one that could have either been knowing, or a silent pact to never admit to Boq what they'd heard. Clearly, it would break the short boy's heart to know Galinda was simply not interested, although he'd heard it from her directly on what seemed like countless occasions.

Elphaba and Boq chose this as the time to break their private talk, sitting in on the other three, thankfully not wanting to cut into the foreign natter. "So," Boq started hopefully, "Spring break starts next weekend."

"So it does!" Crope raised his newly emptied class jovially. "And I shall want to decorate Three Queens in toilet paper."

"Shh, don't tell it to everyone," Tibbet hissed, which caused Galinda to laugh. Her eyes caught the dark irises of Elphaba's, and they looked at one another for a moment, redeeming the entire time they'd spent in separate conversations.

"Where are you planning on going, Miss Galinda?" Boq asked, his voice perking at the syllables of the blonde's name.

"Oh- uh- I don't know, exactly," stammered the Frottican girl, truly not revising her plan for the break. She was invited by Pfannee, Shenshen, and Milla to go down to Lake Chorge, but would have rather spent a week with Elphaba all to herself. "Um, I have plans. Ones that have yet to be decided, for there are so many," she chuckled. "What about the rest of you?"

"If the offer still stands, Miss Elphie, I'd like to help you research," Boq turned his head to the green girl, who nodded solemnly.

"Yes, I don't believe I told you, Galinda, but I'm to take up a part time job assisting Dr. Dillamond," Elphaba said, trying to meet the blonde's gaze, who was still stuck on the fact the Munchkin used _her _nickname for the green girl. "I won't nearly be around as I am now."

"You're hardly around as it is, though," sighed the blonde. "Perhaps it would be better off if I went to Lake Chorge."

"Ouch!" shrieked Crope, rather girlishly, which caused every person in a three table radius to jump with surprise. "That tone you used, Miss Galinda- it sounds like a description of your death wish."

"A description of my death wish would be the sweaty fragrance of Master Avaric," Tibbet drummed his fingers against the table, and then smirked. "Why don't you stay at Shiz, Miss Galinda? You needn't stay in a place that makes you so bluesy. Pink is more your colour."

"I'll have you know that I look fantastic in blue," countered the blonde, wishing to divert the subject. In her peripheral vision was a table at the other side of the room, insignificant and indifferent in every possible way, save for its inhabitants. The bright shade of Miss Shenshen's hair was striking, even from the distance, as was Pfannee's permanent sneer.

"Well, it is a school colour," Elphaba commented, watching as Crope called for a waiter to fetch a third bottle of wine. Horrible as it was, it was wine none the less, claiming to be of the finest Quoxian grapes. He waved his arms and honked like a goose, causing the maître d' to turn around.

"Um, would you excuse me for a moment, I have to use the ladies' room," Galinda slipped out from the booth, turning to walk away when her wrist was enveloped by long, spidery green fingers.

"Is it something I- they… well, something said?" asked Elphaba in a low voice, her hauntingly dark eyes meeting the blonde's. Galinda shook her head furiously; curls bouncing in the ideal way would have to witness to believe.

"No, it was the wine," she smiled, patting the hand on her wrist to keep it there longer than necessary. "Save some for when I return, would you?"

Galinda rushed off, keeping low and hoping she hadn't been spotted by her social clique. She wasn't even sure why she'd reacted this way, it wasn't as though Galinda was ashamed of Elphaba, so much as she was of herself.  
She took her time in the lavatory, the dim light source that barely illuminated the area seemingly obsolete in the face of the sewage system, Shiz's facilities also of this calibre. There were large looking glasses to peer at herself in- her blonde hair virtually unmoved by the day's activity, her make up expertly applied. Galinda figured she was a vision of beauty, and many would agree, but she felt disgruntled.

Perhaps it was the wine, as she would have liked to believe.

---

**Oh my AHH, this took so very long to write. I hope I haven't lost any readers, as more updates will not take (almost) a full month. What is good about this, is that there leaves more room for the slight violence that's in the next scene, when Galinda comes out of the bathroom. Not after a little visit from someone she might (or might not) want to see. ::Megan Hilty voice:: OoOooh.**


	7. Something's Awry

Disclaimer: **Live in my fandom, I'll be your author. Just pay me back with all the money your production made… **

Note: **My computer monitor was acting up, so after trying to fix it, moping around when I couldn't, then fixing it, chapter seven is complete! I wanted to thank the people who took time to vote for this fic in Thespian-Wolf's Wicked Fanfiction Awards, because it's fantastical, and surprising that this stuff was considered (P.S- keep voting). After that, I promise some kind of plot will be borne from this.**

---

Through the torrents of black and white-clad waiters twittering back and forth from the kitchens, their matching attire creating an astounding clone effect, and a great many tables between, accommodating people from boisterous to mumbling to catatonic, Pfannee settled with squinting. It was accidental at first, but once spying that green hand resting subtly on Miss Galinda's wrist as she turned to go, she couldn't look away.

And then, not ten paces away was the ladies' lavatory, obviously occupied by the always-fresh blonde, an elapsed time was waited on until Elphaba slipped away, too. The boys at the table – that horribly naïve Munchkin, and the two would-be fashionables, who were either twins or lovers – didn't seem to notice a single thing, but over at the other end of the establishment, Pfannee figured her view was much more precise.

Milla and Shenshen had been verbally jousting since the blonde pointed out Miss Galinda's unusual company, one playing the role of assigning culpability and the other of sanity. Pfannee silently praised this would mark the end of their communication, yet for every time the two girls squabbled, they only grew stronger. It didn't upset Pfannee so much as it annoyed her; if only they would shut up a moment and allow another to oppose an opinion.

"Well, Miss Elphaba is fine and well as an acquaintance, at a respectable distance, or course. But never for… oh, ick," Milla made an unpleasant expression and shook her head. "Words do not describe."

"Would you just hush on the subject, Milla, it hasn't the slightest logic nor likelihood," Shenshen glared piously at her friend, a crack of mirth forming on her lips. Perhaps it was denial of the statement, or the ridiculousness of it all.

"Meditate a while on that, Sister Shenshen, but there's no denial in the fact that sometimes two women…" Milla sighed exasperatedly from a lack of expression; still shaken by the suggestion, "do the _do_. Only, I thought it among the streets in the Emerald City, never mind from our own Miss Galinda. The poor, misguided poppet."

"Perhaps it was an enchantment from Miss Elphaba," Pfannee dived in, hoping to support the blaze with fuel. "She's always possessed an ungainly presence."

Milla squealed, her cheeks reddening for a moment. Across her dark eyes was the spark of excitement, of new gossip to fulfill she and her society friends' "right now", of false promise to a very empty interest. "You know, Miss Pfannee," she recited slowly, "you may be correct. After all, our Galinda has always been intensely drawn to sorcery, whether she holds ability for it or not. Miss Elphaba's always seemed… ideal for the subject. Maybe the green bean was a little more… _taken_ with Miss Galinda than everyone else."

"Everyone else from _Crage Hall_, you mean," scoffed Shenshen, turning up her nose with the soft swish and coppery glint of newly washed hair. "It's nonsense. Stop being so juvenile, you two, Galinda's gained attention from and has responded to many boys. And she's certainly picky in the way she goes about it. What seizes you to expect a sudden idiosyncrasy in taste?"

"Speaking of taste," Pfannee interrupted a possibly rhetoric query, untucking from her seat and taking special care of her skirt, handcrafted by a renown Gillikinese seamstress. "I would like a snippet of truth to go on, thank you, girls."

And as the magic of friendship always does, Shenshen and Milla cast aside their argument and were drawn together; whispering excitedly and hurriedly about what Pfannee was about to do, departing from their table swiftly to advance upon the lavatory door.

Or maybe that was the power of scandal.

- - -

Galinda was contemplating splashing water from the basin onto her brow, but realized that it would besmirch the time spent perfecting her face that evening. Thinking back, she'd made more of a fuss than usual, not wanting to overdo the amount of makeup that would be applied. The blonde remembered Elphaba once saying she looked finer wearing fewer cosmetics.

Now, the definition of 'finer' was questionable, perhaps a ruse to subdue the Frottican girl, but it brought forth pleasurable butterflies in her stomach nevertheless. With the news of other populace present during their dinner, Galinda did not expect anything less than Elphaba attempting to hide herself, the blonde left to banter merrily along with Crope and Tibbet, of whom weren't the worst company.

But there seemed to be a rip, a tear in either imagination or reality, like a child discovering the non-existence of fairy tales. It seemed, now more than ever, that the green witch chose to avoid Galinda. Their eyes, often drawn to one another, no matter angry or affable, barely met, and it was excusable cause of upset. Crope and Tibbet where swell, eccentric enough to introduce to her society girls, but one simple, haunted glance from the green girl was enough to send even them weak in the knees.

The darkened room was a bit dizzying, yet Galinda wanted to recollect her senses before returning. None of them had thought to order any food, yet between the five, two bottles of wine had been consumed. She willed quite a small rumbling from her midsection, but it would not go.

A slow knock sounded at the door, and Galinda's eyebrows knitted together in thought as the door opened. It was rude for one to just barge in, however wary they were in doing so, if the sign claimed to be occupied.

"Galinda?" It was Elphaba. In this light, her colour was an exotic jade hue; the kind you could only wear after asking a favour from an Emerald City tailor. Galinda would normally find the compulsion to reach out and touch the other girl, but she was, in a sense, cross with Elphaba.

"I could have been doing something indecorous to walk in on," chastised the blonde, turning her face away from the looking glass to the green girl.

"Nothing you do is indecorous, silly girl," smiled Elphaba wryly, and Galinda was glad for the dim lights which concealed her blush. "But, you weren't exactly telling the truth out there."

"Oh, wasn't I?" Galinda quirked a round brow at her friend.

"I said something, or didn't say something you wanted to hear." The green girl was standing upright with her arms crossed behind her unshapely back, as a Gale Force officer might. She was sure of the statement.

"Perhaps," sighed the blonde.

"You knew in advance we wouldn't be alone," Elphaba's gaze intensified.

"Well, what else should I expect?" Galinda asked.

"What does that mean, exactly?" She swayed, a body of majestic grasses moving in the breeze, as though she didn't know whether to advance or leave.

"Miss Pfannee," admitted the blonde with defeat, "is outside of this room. And, for some Lurline forsaken reason, I believe she's waiting for me."

Elphaba gazed at the blonde for a sufficient chunk of time, her eyes seemingly glazed over as she sunk into thought, perhaps with anticipation, confusion or anger, or all. "It's a brave front you put up each day, but a useless one," she said at last.

"And you, for Crope and Tibbet," smiled Galinda.

"They come with the package of estrangement from the rest of the school body, but it's not entirely unwelcome."

Galinda shifted uncomfortably, her gaze faltering to her shoes, the neat sparkle of which was more of a plea for freedom in the darkened lavatory. "And what of Master Boq?"

"Is that what this is about?" Elphaba asked rhetorically, her expression disappointingly unsurprised. And yet, within the layers of herself, was quite knocked for six that the blonde would still be stuck on the subject, especially when Elphaba never gave her the opportunity to explain what could be so afflicting. She swayed again, this time like a high tree during a windy storm. "You know, this Spring Break, about Dr. Dillamond-"

"It's fine, Elphie. You've wanted to apprentice him since I've met you, and so you should," squealed the blonde. "You deserve it. Besides, I've a cosy invitation to Lake Chorge to preoccupy my time."

"But you hate them," Elphaba drawled knowingly, almost like a child. It wasn't often she wielded harsh describing words, unless it pertained to something that caressed her heart, like Animal Rights. "Let me finish my sentences, Galinda. This Spring Break, about Dr. Dillamond, it won't take up all my time. If you refuse to follow Miss Pfannee to Lake Chorge, then I would most certainly like to spend the week with you."

"I think I'll go," persisted the blonde, checking herself in the looking glass once again. She could see a smirk plastered to Elphaba's face through its reflective surface.

"It's a fine opportunity, my helping Dr. Dillamond," Elphaba continued, "yet not quite an apprenticeship. However, he has mentioned payment for my service, which isn't unpleasant for my own sake." She paused abruptly, controlling the usage of words that spilt from her mouth. "It would be worthless if there wasn't somebody I could squander it all with."

"Why, Miss Elphie, I don't believe anyone has ever overheard you in such a fit of recklessness," Galinda finally cracked a smile, the ends of her lips turning upwards. "But, wouldn't you still have Master Boq to paint the campus red with?"

"Oh, pah on Boq. He and I have only ever _really_ been friendly when-" the green girl cut herself off, and if not for years of expressional repression, her eyes would have widened. Be it an unsuspecting secret, or the beginnings of an end, it wasn't just Elphaba who had caught the potentially explosive slip. She faltered, her spidery fingers reaching for the door as she looked to the blonde apologetically, before leaving, mumbling what sounded like, "Bugger."

Galinda's own fingers froze on the basin of the sink, before she whirled around to face air, nothing but an empty space where her friend used to be. She and Boq had done, what? The meanings of 'friendly' expanded like an endless rubber band, from what the blonde shared with her society clique, to her fluttering, skipping heart beat when she and Elphaba were alone in their dorm room.

She inhaled especially deeply, lungs growing to a point of suffrage by the time she let it out slowly. First it was the neighbour boy that lived across from her father's estate, then it was a charming man in coattails at a debutant ball … and now Elphaba, who seemed to outweigh how incredibly superficial the other two were. Love, fickle and indecisive, was something Galinda was frightened to discover existed or not. If she loved Elphaba, Galinda feared she would have to face something undeniably _genuine_.

- - -

Emerging from the lavatory, stalking away from the door, the clattering and low buzzing of voices became audible in amounting volumes, muffled down to meekness from within the other walls.

Elphaba hoped that Galinda would come back out and forget what she'd said, and perhaps think over the proposition seriously. That was the reasoning behind their dinner: to invite Galinda to stay with her over the Spring Break, for in her heart of hearts, the green girl feared she wouldn't survive without the blonde at Shiz.

It was also cooler in the open, the door swinging closed to brush cold air across Elphaba's exposed ankles, of which she didn't often accede to. What broke her away from thought, of the air and Galinda, and possibly how alike they could be, was the woman approaching the lavatory door, when the sign obviously read occupied, in large, crimson letters.

She was pink and rosy, much shorter than Elphaba, with skin much rougher, as her forehead was wrinkled with concern, or more appropriately, scorn. Pfannee was never a favourite of the green girl, nor an enjoyed acquaintance whatsoever. By the smirk that dirtied the girl's face, there was something more to their coincidence of meeting.

Elphaba looked up from her feet to greet Pfannee, who had opened her mouth to say something that, hypothesized from past experience, would be crude.

"I'd have never thought you to be the type to banish a slip from her outfit," said the green girl with a pleasant frown, walking past without stopping.

Pfannee's mouth remained open, her expression morphing into that of embarrassment and offence. She turned around to watch Elphaba's back as she made her way to the table of boys, who already started their next bottle of wine, and thrust a glass towards her, encouraging a drink. Grumbling, the blonde girl charged back to her own table to check if what she was accused of was true.

- - -

Galinda had never seen such a state of shock in the green girl's eyes before, colour darkened as she bore a hole into the blonde, thin nostrils flaring against her long and slender nose. It wasn't an expression often seen on Elphaba, face flush with fright, and in the knowledge that it was cause of her, Galinda wanted to ignite more often.

Like in a dream, she advanced towards their table, Crope and Tibbet too drunk from the generous helping of wine emptied from their cups to grasp fully what was progressing.

The hilt was heavy in her hands, the leather binding it poking into her palms. She strengthened her hold on it for reassurance, shaking disobedient curls from her face. The rapier of the thing was enormous in comparison to the decorative Gillikin swords around her father's estate, relics from old battles obviously not won from such items. Where it sat for Lurline-knows how long above the kitchens door was a long imprint, the wall appearing bare from its lack of residence.

The daunting length of the thing did not ease Galinda, yet held her shoulders back, despite its great weight, for she could see Boq's eyes glint across it. She wanted to smile, but found she could not; for the Munchkin boy still had his arm around Elphaba's shoulders, and the green girl had yet to shrug them away, as practiced countless times before to the Frottican girl. Surely some form of justice would come now, if Galinda expressed her outrage by surrendering to a single, impacting urge.

Running out of floor to march along, skirts waving in all directions from furious walking, Galinda crawled up onto the table, her knees making a bruising connection with the hard surface.

"Galinda, what the hell are you doing?" Elphaba spat, gripping the table's edge, and only then slinking away from the shorter boy. "Get down from there, and I'll take you home. Please."

It was so close that the blonde to could taste it- coppery and bitter, more likely caused by the twinge of biting her tongue. She glared at Boq, a halfway smile on her pretty face, the Munchkin boy backed against the booth with terror, not believing in his thoughts, but realizing the sheer determination in the blonde's own widened eyes.

"Galinda, think about this careful-" Boq was saying with a crackled voice, but the words drowned out from the rushing in Galinda's head, sweeping her mind of conscience, of any thought. With difficulty, she lifted the sword, Boq not thinking to move for the fact that this was Galinda- dainty little Frottican schoolgirl who wouldn't- _couldn't_- hurt a worm, never mind a man.

And yet, the edge of the blade buried into Boq's deflated chest, the booth providing no room to stagger back, so he simply lay across the chair, body erect in pain and surprise. By now, people were shouting and struggling to exit the restaurant first, dinners left on their plates, forks still in place upon the flesh of what might have been a Cow, abandoned to go cold and eventually turn.

There was a sense of accomplishment that Galinda was able to do something no one expected of her, but Boq was still staring, unsure of what to do, while the edge of the sword protruded from his chest. Galinda heaved a frustrated sigh, leaning forwards and using her paltry muscles to remove the sword, a strange and stomach-turning sucking noise erupting from the hole in Boq's chest. Collecting her wits, Galinda brought the blade down in the same place, a defeated bellow escaping the Munchkin.

The more Galinda twisted and turned the blade, removing the rapier, the more blood began to seep through Boq's tattered waistcoat, Shiz's school colours ruined by the crimson liquid. It was still hot when it reached her hands, having travelled down the blade to the hilt, as Galinda began a routinely plunging the sword in and out, hoping to destroy any thoughts of Boq wanting to replicate the movement in Elphaba.

"You leave her alone, you foul, little twit!" She yelled, voice eventually becoming hoarse and drowning out the Munchkin's cries as she screamed, "She's mine, she's mine, she's mine!" with every blow from the sword.

The room began to stink of the tart fluid, only meagre whines and squeals coming from Boq, his eyelashes fluttering now, his body jerking with seizures against the seat. It was the most violent way Galinda knew to use a sword, from stories she used to beg her Ama to tell, even if it brought about nightmares.

It seemed the blood was becoming brighter, almost glowing as Boq's body went limp and sagged down into the seat. His forehead hit the table with a thump; the cutlery jingling, and only then did Galinda stop yelling, her chest moving up and down vigorously.

She looked down upon her work and then towards Elphaba, whose awkward body had backed onto the ground beside the table, for the first time in their lives peering up at the blonde, her face written with sheer confusion and panic. Her angular eyebrows were high upon her forehead, eyes wide with wonder, but jaws clamped shut, perhaps from fear of screaming.

Sure, Elphaba wasn't falling at Galinda's feet, thanking her, or even looking upon her fondly. In fact, it seemed Elphaba would ever look upon Galinda fondly, or calmly, again, and yet the satisfaction of murder still echoed in the blonde. She had created distressingly animated sensation inside Elphaba, and it served the green girl right for starting it.

From behind them, Crope and Tibbet were still sitting in their side of the booth, surveying the seen through their drunken stupors with smugness and veiled distress. "Now, would you look at that," Tibbet sighed.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," Crope whispered back, indicating the corpse, and the two girls who were flecked with drops of stray blood. "I mean, how long was our Elphie expecting her to hold out? Until Boq died of natural cause?"

"Even so, it seems Galinda's destined for a pampered lifestyle in Southstairs," giggled Tibbet, playfully bumping elbows with the other boy, who joined in on the laughter.

The blood was bright, indeed, like the vibrant shade red wine turned when light shone down at it. Galinda realized she was looking at vividly lit drink when Elphaba called her name.

"Galinda, aren't you going to sit down?" the green girl asked expectantly, her words slow, as though the blonde wouldn't be able to interpret them.

"She's contemplating whether it's worth it," Crope narrated. "Don't you see?" he cried dramatically, slamming his fist on the table, truthfully drunker than intended, "She's fallen out of love with us!"

"Oh, hush for a moment, Crope," chastised Boq, live and breathing, his clothing neat and his arm still draped around Elphaba's shoulders comfortably. The wine Galinda was transfixed by belonged to him, and he twirled the glass elegantly, breaking the blonde's daydream. "It seems I'm to take them back to Three Queens, doesn't it?"

"Well, they certainly won't be able to make it back alone," agreed Elphaba, her voice its usual monotone, lacking any of the animation Galinda imaged seconds before. "I would assist you, but then it would be a longer path. They're not so troublesome when they become saddened and moping- perhaps we should wait until then."

Galinda silently slipped into her seat, guilt from her thoughts seeping into her conscience similar to how Boq's blood invaded his coat. Not bothering to cross her legs beneath the table, Galinda swallowed air into her suddenly dry throat. She felt terribly now that it was over, Boq's smiling practically mocking Galinda in showing how much happier he made Elphaba.

She had vivid thoughts about killing the Munchkin boy, and to the blonde, that was worse than actually committing the deed. Never before had she ever felt this way, her stomach bottomless and her head light, the urge to vomit and cry out easily despotic but not evaporating.

"We managed to keep a glass for you, Miss Galinda," Boq announced jovially, and if Galinda were paying more attention, the slight nervousness in his voice would have been apparent. He moved a liberal amount of wine towards the blonde, the glass scraping along the table and causing more distress. "Crope and Tibbet thought you were gone too long, but we compromised an afternoon at the costume shop."

"That was _you_," Elphaba corrected with a superior expression, looking over at the other boys, who were whispering back and forth, occasionally snorting or giggling. "I'm not setting foot in there again. All the feathery boas and blonde wigs are worse than the theatre department."

Elphaba was smiling, her white teeth always a more attractive feature, but she faltered when meeting Galinda's eye. It was only for a moment, but Galinda had a feeling Elphaba knew of her thoughts, read them like the many preceding books under her cool gaze, yet misunderstanding the motive. It instilled shame in Galinda, slumping her shoulders as she tried to quell her nausea.

"That's really kind," Galinda said, jumping up from her seat. Boq shifted in his seat, arms dropping from around the green girl, to address the Frottican. "But I- well, I feel a bit light headed. If you would be so understanding as to give me a few moments of fresh air."

"Certainly," Boq answered immediately, full of concern. "May I be privileged enough to join you, Miss Galinda?"

The Munchkin was the last person Galinda wanted to join her. As much as she disliked him for the attention he drew from Elphaba, she wanted forgiveness from her current thoughts. There was such guilt plaguing her, that Galinda wanted to beg at his feet, but then again, vowed never to let him, nor anyone else, distinguish her iniquitousness. She would ask forgiveness from the Unnamed God, a habitual faith founded by her father's discipline.

"I'm grateful for your concern, but I'll be fine," Galinda reassured, moving away from the table. "If I don't return, know I've gone to the dorm for bed."

Elphaba turned to watch her roommate leave the restaurant in an unconquerably flustered manner, the smile disappearing from her for good. There was panic in Galinda's expression when they faced one another, as though Elphaba was a bolt from the blue.

It seemed something occurred from the lavatory to Galinda's path back to her seat. Perhaps Miss Pfannee had said something to the blonde after all, even when the green girl had attempted to fend for her friend. This night was meant to be a relaxing occasion, as it had commenced, Galinda even making friendly with Crope and Tibbet, who were slightly vexed as to why she had left as well, and began giggling about it.

"Elphaba," Boq began, turning away from the door to face the green girl, "d'you think maybe… it was me? Do you think she's really not feeling well?"

"She wanted us to split this one last glass of wine," Tibbet reasoned. "So that the drunk may get drunker!"

"It could have been the costume shop comment, Miss Elphie," Crope suggested as soberly as possible. "It could have been insulting to her image, boas and all."

"No, Boq, it wasn't you," Elphaba said quietly, feeling the Munchkin's arm return to slip around her shoulders. "If I may, though, she might really be ill."

The green girl untangled the boy's arm from around her and stood up from the booth. She hurried into her woollen coat, digging into the pocket and throwing her share of payment for the wine onto the tabletop.

"So soon?" Tibbet enquired, lifting an eyebrow at Elphaba's swiftness.

"You'll be able to handle them?" she asked, looking to Boq, who nodded mutely. "All right, then."

"A good night," Boq called after her.

"And you," she called back, disappearing into the crowds of people and tables, sharply looking around for a head of blonde curls.

- - -

**Did everyone understand that last scene? Review and tell me of any spelling mistakes, I've edited it through kingdom come, but still feel as though there's a gaint "BETA-LESS" sign stuck to my back. Because, y'know, you'll review. You will. Any minute now. Maybe tomorrow.**


	8. Gonna Be Wounded

Disclaimer: **Hope-less-lee dee-vote-ed to… Wicked. Not the other way around**.

Note: **Obviously, this has taken longer than expected. I'm going to have to make it up to the handful of people who requested an alert for every time this was updated and _actually_ read the chapters with... I don't know... incorporating fig newtons or something. What do you guys think?**

- - -

The day was far from gloomy, sharps rays of light bursting invasively through the lecture hall windows, small as they were. It brightened most of the room, suggesting that there was no need for artificial light; the latter extinguished soon as the professor arrived. Although the windows were mitigated and particularly smudged from neglect of sanitation, fingerprints and whipped grime from wind, it were as though the stuffy, enclosed walls were exploding with the refreshing luminosity of spring.

Elphaba would never admit it, but she revelled in such pallid, blinding brightness. Spring was the farthest season she would esteem; for there was far too much rain and way more sentiment than the green girl preferred, but the light was fantastically pleasant. The rigid girl felt, if she closed her eyes and mustered up imagination, that seasonal sunlight was the closest thing to bathing in an enlivening splash of water.

She chose a seat near the window, parchment of her notebook appearing almost bone white in the nearness to outside, where students were undoubtedly gallivanting about the grounds and missing class; birds were taking flight and extending upwards in a most marvellous display of defiance; and soon, as predicted from the moment such loveliness sprouted, rainfall would follow.

Besides her abstract thoughts, there was a lecture taking place that Elphaba felt she could not afford to miss. Her recent experience of nearly being discovered tardy with Boq was the last straw, instigating a bout of taking cover in Crage Hall until class was in session. This seemed to brighten Galinda likened to the spring light for the single time the blonde was present.

The professor, one Van Glokkus, was disliked by the green girl only for his foible of easy marking. She had once witnessed him skim through the pages of an essay with his eyes preoccupied elsewhere, awarding the student with an above average percentage, which left Elphaba feeling as though her dedicated studies and thoughtful work was undervalued. His teachings, however, were impacting and progressed just as Elphaba enjoyed: speedily. It were as if Van Glokkus was once an auctioneer; his sentences barely finishing before he started anew; his tongue so swift that an outsider might come to the conclusion that only pure gibberish was being spoken.

Elphaba's notebook would be thrown into a whirlwind of ink, letters forming under her quill at a pace close behind the professor. She would find her nose inches away from the paper by the end of the lecture, having concentrated so fervidly on memorizing the material, tangibly and mentally. It was almost as though she and Van Glokkus were embarking on a competition: who could beat whom with the stealth of voice, hand, and brain. Suffice to say, he was a clever old bat.

"Can anyone relay to me what the term 'price of living' pertains to? No, Miss Elphaba, that was a rhetorical question," drawled the professor, his manic tongues slowing so that he could suck air into his lungs. In that respect, Van Glokkus reminded Elphaba of her Goat mentor, and rejuvenated her attention.

Standing in front of the classroom, peering up from the stage as though he could catch each students' eyes (even though many had trouble keeping their eyes focused), the professor clasped his hands with a dignity obligatory to a man of old age. His neat suit was navy and clashing with diminishing grey hair, of both head and whiskers.

"The price of living, young ladies and gentlemen, is the cost one pays for their modern livelihood. Ones wants, necessities, all come with a cost. Take, for instance, the shortages with foods imported from everywhere but Gillikin. Cream is on a shortage, yes, it's been ages since I could enjoy the delicacy, even though the Wizard is fighting nail, tooth, and claw to provide for his people. The Wizard, though, could be partly blamed for such a hullabaloo, but that's for next week.

"Back to point A, wants and needs fall into severely differentiating categorizations from which are usually blurred in the face of what I like to call 'the little boy with the ant farm'. I don't say 'Ant' because those buggers are vicious; must have to do with their undervalue due to infinitesimal-ousity.

"If you'll take a look at the charts I have set up back there," Van Glokkus waved a general hand rearwards, "you can see the percent of people in Munchkinland alone who buy more for opulence, take example, a specially tailored suit has quite nearly doubled, when one may easily buy to size from their stores.

"Recent results from Statistics Oz show that crowds form around such stores that sell shoes, lawn tenders, jewellery, and Animal labourers. Where is the demand for such things as apples and physicians and that which deals with matters of the inside? A man who discovers symptoms of deadly disease might, as Statistics Oz found whilst polling waiting patients (page two hundred and six in your text), venture off into the liquor store rather than venture into concern of the self.

"All animals require necessities to living. A warm fire, water, shelter, protection comes to mind. And yet, we strive to earn, or envy the ventilated estate, and we eat caviar. You see, it's the advertising that causes one to want. When the packaging is pretty, the promises are broad, ladies and gentlemen. This is how fashion thrives!

"A lady does not wear her bonnets or corsets for convenience, but it is sighting Ozma dressed this way that ignites the want. A man's waistcoat is not solid black; his cufflinks are not purely gold, unless it has been passed along from mister to mister. Whilst this demonstrates the unity of people with precision, it is a test of covetousness and control on our behalf as human beings.

"Perhaps a lady did not conceive of the bonnet's credibility at the time she first saw it, discarding it as rubbish. But, when another lady finds the same bonnet a treasure, and dons it with the elegance of lady, the former becomes jealous. She does not need the hat; in fact, her personal opinion was of rejection. It has been taken up by another, and wielded with respect. She _needs_ clean water and heat from a woodstove to thrive, food and company- not a bonnet.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is what psychology calls 'The Id'. Further information is in your text, but for now, you've a period to work on the research assignment due come Wednesday. I'm sure you won't fail me concerning expectations," Van Glokkus sat at his desk and pasted on a hopeful expression. Elphaba concealed an irrepressible snort. "Well, then. Begin."

The professor had barely started before his explanation as over, but the green girl was sure all the vital parts had been taken down. The rest of the class was dead with activity, but the majority slowly revealed their notebooks and parchments to make use of the period. Elphaba leaned back in her chair and allowed herself to bask in the window's nearness, chair legs threatening to give way in their odd positioning.

With lethargy, she extended her spidery fingers in front of her face and inspected them. Her nails were clean and long, a few evidently chewed during moments of deep thought or pressure. One thing Elphaba had always contemplated was their verdant hue, like that of her flesh, but of the nail. Wasn't it that whale bones were of the same stuff? Was there a lonely, green whale out in the fabled oceans somewhere, calling to her a shared frustration?

"Excuse me, Miss?"

"Never you mind," Elphaba declined the trailing voice politely, still inspecting her nails and not bothering to look up. The person in front of her cast an unwelcome shadow over her desk space, and cleared his throat to draw her eyes in a rumbling, rich cough.

"Well, I was wondering your name."

"And I was hoping to achieve some progress within this much privileged work period, in which it seems you wish to mar with undoubtedly useless speech. It's not that I don't have confidence what you're about to say doesn't lack merit, only that my ears rebuff the proposition," countered Elphaba, one sharp eyebrow raised in amusement as she tightly balled her hand into a fist, then unclenched it.

"I'm sure there is much to learn from reading your fingers, Miss, but I was wondering your name," repeated the student, and Elphaba looked up at him from her seat in accolade of his persistence.

He must have been a Munchkin for his anything but unique features, but of a taller breed, as Elphaba was. Clad in Shiz colours and a deceptively neatly folded tie, his russet hair stuck up unevenly, hemispherical spectacles resting on the nadir of his long, bulbous nose. One hand clutched a notebook; the other was buried nonchalantly in his trouser pocket.

"You've earned five minutes," Elphaba sighed.

The student flashed a moment's smile, then extended his free hand from its pocketed resting place. "So, your name?"

"Haven't you heard?" smirked the rigid girl. "Miss Elphaba Thropp," she shook his hand with leisurely firmness. "And you are?"

"Haven't _you_ heard? I'm Wedekind."

"Pleasure," Elphaba broke their brief contact, unconvinced. She planned for him to walk away from her, perhaps to his gaggle of friends, laughing about how he'd touched her. Perhaps he would wipe the hand on his friends' sleeves, electing girlish shrieks from coolly mannered university boys. Were Wedekind to do this, Elphaba told herself to simply continue to delve into her research assignment, even though she had finished within the week it was dispensed.

Instead, he untucked the chair beside Elphaba noisily, wooden legs scraping against the stone floor and suddenly awakening the girl's attention. "I have noticed, Miss Elphaba, that we share a multitude of interests," Wedekind announced, not unkindly, although laced with a hint of sneakiness.

"And what makes you so sure it is interests that we share, Master Wedekind, and not just air?" Elphaba retorted. "We share this class together."

"And two others," added the would-be Munchkin, his expression gravely pleasant, somehow contrasting with Elphaba's. "Life Sciences is one. Of course, I do not blame you for the lack of acknowledgement from that class; either one sleeps the entire way through, or, is like you, and fascinated."

"And which category would you place yourself, Master Wedekind?" Elphaba leaned against the palm of her hand, in which the elbow was propped up against the desk, as a mockery of interest, although the other didn't seem to notice. The glorious sunbeams were warm enough, but when breaths were being exchanged at such a close radius, the area Elphaba chose that morning made her grow ill at ease.

Wedekind stared at the green girl intensely, as, noticed the latter, Galinda tended to do when her eyes unfocused whilst oddly staring, although there was a lack of enthusiasm. Another smiled flickered before he answered, "I've yet to decide, but I was hoping, for all of Oz, that you could help me."

Elphaba resisted an instinctual snort from escaping her nostrils, and peered closely at the boy to see if he were feigning his seemingly seriousness. "And why, out of all the students in Shiz, would you want _my_ help?" she asked, lesser convinced than before.

There was another flash of a smile, Wedekind shrugging his shoulders apathetically. "I figured that, if you managed to improve my average in Life Sciences, I could help you in our languages course."

Elphaba heaved an uncomfortable sigh, her eyebrow shooting upward on her forehead again to test the sly challenge Wedekind's own expression upheld. In the green girl's mind, this was a theatre student with a miraculous focus, or perhaps he was genuinely interested, for she had never even seen him in their other subjects. She suspected, like those who lacked confidence to excel, he sat, broad shoulders hunched closely together in his navy pullover, near the back of the class.

She paused to take an audible breath before speaking. "What possesses you to believe I need assistance in languages?"

"Well, I've lived in Southern Munchkinland all my life," he drawled, "and know the patois, in fact, better than my own nose. But you, it seems, are having a spot of difficulty with the use of your tongue."

Elphaba sniffed disapprovingly, burying the lower half of her face in her bony, propped up hand to hide the darker jade that coloured her cheeks. "Interesting to know you've been paying attention to my struggling dialect," her warning voice shifted as her weight did by crossing a lengthy leg over the other.

"I'd hate to mar your mighty academic achievements with a mark in languages you had an opportunity to improve. And," he persuasively kept his grin long enough for the green girl to analyze his crooked bottom teeth, "they say the best way to learn is by conducting a lesson."

"Say I, hypothetically, do agree. I would be improving your understanding of biological mechanics, and you would facilitate my poor tongue?" Elphaba asked, attempting to mask how flustered she felt.

"Er- yes, if you wish to phrase it in that declining value," the boy's resolve melted into obviously unplanned sheepishness, buying time by pushing his spectacles farther up.

Elphaba's eyes darkened with cruel intent, and she let out a few syllables of protest before shooting the boy down, suddenly halting with a single thought that escaped her mind no more than a minute next. "You've got a deal," she agreed defeatedly. "When and were do we start, Master Wedekind?"

"Whatever's preferable," shrugged the Munchkin, peering at her oddly. "I do appreciate this, Miss Elphaba. You seem so passionate about that class, and well, especially when Dr. Dillamond gives lessons on Animals…"

Elphaba held in a smirk that the thought of inserting thoughts of Animals Rights into this boy's head during their sessions, which, of course, were still sketchy, and would remain so until they had concluded. The green girl, for all of her intelligence and occasional bouts of amicability, had never been solicited for such a favour in the past. Truthfully, her dialects for Southern Munchkin were terrible, and caused her to regret signing onto the program with pained stomach and headaches of dread.

"The library," suggested Elphaba quickly, wishing the dark haired student would stop peering at her queerly.

"We would hardly be able to converse in the presence of any predatorial librarian, as the board is so fond of hiring," he declined, eyes flickering to check the time. "Let's say I buy you dinner and begin tonight. I have nothing on my agenda, save for this."

"Perhaps _my_ evening is full. I hardly think dinner would be appropriate," Elphaba growled, then continued hopefully. "Besides, there is practically a maze of shelves in Three Queens's library. Anyone especially motivated to figure out where all the speech is originating would require having to stand up and walk," she concluded as though the actions were the epitome of arduous detective's drudgery.

Wedekind's eyebrows did a funny dance upon his forehead, and then he leaned in closer to Elphaba, the green girl, untucking her chair to escape the nearness. "I want your help. What does it matter where we are?"

"I've yet to have a positive experience with seemingly innocent propositions from those I have no affinity with," Elphaba's nostrils flared from either anger at the boy or herself, she rather couldn't tell. In fact, she hadn't been propositioned whatsoever, save for a few children in Quadling Country who had asked her name and laughed at her polite, lonely disposition. The memories that followed such were the most unpleasant of the green girl's physical career; being booted repeatedly in the mud once she'd doubled over from their torments.

"Why? For your skin colour? My, don't think yourself so unique, Miss Elphaba!" Wedekind slapped his knee in the manner of a man double his age, causing some of the class to look in their directions before turning away once more.

"Unless you've a better story of your life as a peach skinned boy from an economically thriving region, I invite you to shut up," she scowled.

"I knew a lad in my younger years whose skin was polka dotted!" grinned the dark haired boy.

Elphaba's expression shifted for a moment before she attempting opening her mouth unsuccessfully. "Really," she commented, although it was more of an inquiry. Wedekind seemed to understand, and continued.

"Oh yes, a young boy with these hideously comical red spots all over his person. People used to say he had either been cursed with permanent Pox, or that his real father was a Quadling," Wedekind smiled and pushed up his spectacles. "I remember he was nice enough, but those spots were like the handiwork of a drunken cartoonist."

Elphaba snorted, allowing herself to laugh, despite the harsh words about a boy who was most likely nonexistent. Yet, Wedekind's retelling was enough to make her laugh, for his eyes shined fondly, and his voice rumbled with suppressed laughter. The green girl suspected that this was a wile in order for her to agree to the idea of studying over dinner, which the rigid girl suspected further, with an inward sigh and an out-of-character spell of inquisitiveness, that her new pupil and tutor had won.

"One supposes being 'nice enough' is worth rubbish in the midst of a few imperfections," Elphaba thought aloud slowly. "Spots, though, it's a wonder what they'd look like… I also suppose," she concluded finally, glaring up at Wedekind's shining black irises, "that if you were to take the bill, dinner is appropriate."

- - -

Galinda often giggled. Almost as if it were a mechanism of defence, her eyes would cast downward; her thickset lips would part ever-so-slightly in a smile in order to let out a high pitched titter. It was most certainly a habitual movement, an unconscious decision to act cute in the presence of others, so much that she had begun to do this in loneliness, as well.

However, she was not alone. She slid across the booth closer to Elphaba, whose own eyes were half lidded with amusement, supposing that were this a defence mechanism, the blonde was awfully nervy.

It was another restaurant, with hardly a variance, save for the lighting, which left enough brightness to make out the pale hue of Galinda's face, neck, and shoulders, the slight curve of her nose, and the inescapable pout of her lips. These were things that the Frottican girl was famed for; a dismal outlook on talent or skill, and yet, as far as the green girl was concerned, still enviable.

"I'm not supposed to be here," Elphaba argued simply, the edges of her lips undecided as to whether to laugh or to scowl. Her hand, resting on the table, confirmed her unease of the dull illumination: for it glowed such an olive hue, contrasting fearfully with her companion's rosy ambience.

"On the contrary, you're to be no other place but here, Miss Elphaba," Galinda said lightly, but from the expression of her eyes, hardly seen unless one squinted, suggested an austerity. "In all the restaurants in all of Shiz, you had to walk into the one that suggests blind patrons."

Elphaba attempted to clear her throat, smirking when she felt an elfin hand slide over her own on the table top. "Not completely blind," she reminded, letting the blonde intertwine their fingers, at least for a small while. The rigid girl never knew how to react when being touched; she could handle touching other people, it enforced her hegemony. But it was when someone else touched her, the occurrence so atypical, that she was reminded of her lifelong loneliness.

Anybody would want to change it.

Elphaba looked upwards at the source of light: a small lamp hanging from the low ceiling, its brightness practically nonexistent, as it was slathered in a concentrated fog of smoke. The green girl conjectured that it was tobacco smoke, but peering around the small room and paying attention to outward sound, there didn't seem to be anybody else in the restaurant. Unless Galinda had spontaneously taken up pipe smoking. In fact, there didn't seem to be any light coming from the rest of the room, save for theirs.

A minor tug on her held hand brought Elphaba back from thought, her head snapping to face Galinda, who was peering up at her through thick eyelashes. "There's been something I've kept to myself for quite some time, and you should probably be the first to know," the blonde announced. Almost, as if to assert herself, she added, "I've been keeping it to myself so you _would_ be the first to know."

"Pipe smoking is a dangerous activity, Galinda," Elphaba warned half jokingly, glancing about the empty void of atmosphere around them nervously. She saw the serious glare her diminutive friend was directing, the green girl coughing as though she hadn't. "I'm sure whatever you must confess may be preserved until we're at home."

"In the dorm room, Elphaba?" Galinda smiled, tightening and loosening her hold on the green girl's hand playfully. "You've never referred to it as our dorm room, only that it was 'home'. Did you know that?"

"I must have called it a dorm once or twice," Elphaba's forehead wrinkled in thought, but she could make out Galinda's head waggling in refusal. "Having not dwelled long in Crage Hall, one might identify their residence in terms of a stranger. You have, as well as I."

"No, it's always 'home'. I want to start referring to it as home, as well. It's not exactly the cosiest place of all, but…" the rest of the sentence was mumbled so that one word could not be distinguished from the next, and Elphaba ground her jaw in annoyance. The surroundings were indubitably anomalous, but Galinda was still in character.

"It's not your home, Galinda," sighed the green girl. "Gillikin is where you belong, doubtlessly, as anything less would be aberrant. But I seem to have no other residence, so you see, I'd never the opportunity to call another place home."

The blonde was quieted by Elphaba's explanation, perhaps awaiting a witty or dry punch line to accommodate the truth behind the green girl's statement. Elphaba felt the air shift around her uncomfortably, her back straightening and sharp shoulders jutting out as she turned to her friend.

"You wanted to say something beforehand?" she asked, wishing to divert the subject.

"I want to avoid a social disaster, on second thought," Galinda blinked shyly.

"Have you ever survived a social disaster?" Elphaba asked, an idea forming in her head. Apart of the reasoning why she called their dorm home, now that she truthfully thought upon it, was partly because of Galinda's presence. Be they the most awkward relationship in existence, supplemented with ducking away from the student body and pointedly avoiding one another, theirs was a relationship Elphaba grew accustom to.

"Once or twice I've had rumours spread about my virtue," sniffed the blonde. Elphaba smirked, and heard Galinda let out a one-chuckle laugh.

"Well, I happen to be a social disaster," the green girl elucidated slowly, "but I also happen to know how to survive an actual disaster."

"Elphaba, a social disaster constitutes to the ruin of one's repute, which is the epitome of what anyone looks for in a future career, marriage notwithstanding. It is just as damaging, if not more, than a whirlwind of hail, if not worse. And you aren't a social disaster, in fact, I find you quite charming," Galinda concluded, satisfied with herself.

"Aside from that, are you aware of how to act in the event of a hurricane?" Elphaba raised a brow, although she doubted Galinda could see it. There was a pause, as though her blonde companion was rolling her eyes back to search through her memory.

"Er- what's a hurricane?" Galinda asked, but the answer she received was unlike anything Elphaba had ever bequeathed.

Galinda's lips were soft and, for the moment, unresponsive for what Elphaba supposed was surprise. The residue that spread to her own verdant, thin lips was probably lip gloss, and tasted uncannily like Gillikin berries. In a matter of seconds, the courage Elphaba has mustered was shattered, the blonde like a leaf without the presence of wind, until she did finally respond.

The hand Elphaba was holding drew her towards Galinda as their lips moved lazily, as though this activity was archetypal to their friendship. They gasped in between kisses for air, Galinda's tiny nose nuzzled against the green girl's, and if Elphaba listened hard enough, she could have sworn Galinda was, in a way, purring.

They broke apart easily, the space in between them meagre before Galinda opened her mouth again to speak. Practically against Elphaba's mouth, she romantically uttered, "The only difference between southern and western is the pronunciation of 'th'. You ask to deposit a thousand pounds in a western accent, and you may receive a rhinoceros from a southern bank teller."

"What?" Elphaba spat, opening her eyes and drawing away to discover Wedekind's clever face looking at her through his falcate spectacles. He was sitting across from her in the booth of the so-called 'hip' bistro she had visited with Boq, Crope and Tibbet, and Galinda with; the lighting bright and alerting, the place rumbling with life. Someone laughed loudly behind Elphaba, ending in a hacking cough, and there was a textbook splayed out before her, the very same one in front of the Munchkin. In her hand was a cheaply binded, tiny tome of Munchkinland languages.

"It was a joke, Miss Elphaba, and you'll have to laugh at one of them soon enough," Wedekind prompted, taking up his glass of what appeared to be water, and drained it long enough for Elphaba to silently pull herself together. Daydreaming was not something she did regularly, but when it snuck up on her, as daydreams are apt to do, it was always as though she had visited another world. Her memory returned, and she tapped her fingernails against the table top in annoyance.

"You'll have to actually tell a funny one in order for me to laugh," she said pleasantly, which earned a chuckle from her studying companion. Her eyes grazed a parchment on top on her textbook, and she tutted with disdain. "It's not a 'principle of metamorphoses', but a principle of development in monads which initiates metamorphoses."

"It's odd how you throw that on me when you can't even count to ten in southern Munchkin," Wedekind smiled slightly, and took the paper up from Elphaba's text and studied it over. "By George, you're correct. I wrote this rough copy in that falling down Bohemian restaurant four blocks from here, you see, it's pitch black in there."

"The dark doesn't scramble one's brain, Master Wedekind, but try to refrain from writing assignments in restaurants. It seems the only places you reside are restaurants," grumbled the green girl.

Wedekind looked up through his spectacles sheepishly. "I just enjoy food," he said, then scratched the back of his head confusedly. "Geological developmentalism?" he asked.

"Get used to it," Elphaba smirked, and then automatically lost all expression from her face. It struck her like a stinging slap across the cheek – it left her winded likened to a slap – and her eyes darkening slightly with panic, stomach filling with trepidation.

"What's the matter?" asked the Munchkin, adjusting his spectacles in a way that suggested he was missing something. He gazed around nervously and then settled back to Elphaba, whose breathing was becoming sparse and quick, her chest falling before it fully rose. Short breaths plagued her lungs, and she groaned with realization.

"Today wouldn't happen to be Friday?" Elphaba asked in southern Munchkin, changing the language to lighten to the mood, only producing a strange look from her companion.

"Oh! Yes, today is Friday, Miss Elphaba. You really do need to work on your dialects- you said something that sounded like 'fri morning'," grinned Wedekind. "Is something the matter?"

"Master Wedekind, I'm afraid I've made a terrible mistake," Elphaba confessed, clenching her jaw to keep from whining. His mentioning of the Bohemian restaurant sparked remembrance in her mind, of this being the last day before Mark Break. She and Galinda had made plans to visit that very restaurant in celebration of a full week to themselves, and Galinda's decision to turn down going to Lake Chorge. "One that might impair the quality of my material belongings, seeing that I've just broken a promise to my roommate."

"That's unfortunate, isn't it?" Wedekind scrunched up his face, the elegance of his atmosphere gone momentarily. "Have I done anything?"

"Slightly," replied the green girl, snapping her textbook shut. "Do you mind if we reschedule? I think we've made progress with your understanding of the evolution of the monad, but I remain rubbish."

"Dr. Dillamond tells me you'll be busy with him all next week?" the Munchkin asked, handing Elphaba some of her things as she scrambled with her book bag.

"Yes, and depending on what happens after I leave here, it might just be the only thing I do next week," Elphaba sighed. "You claimed the bill."

"I did say that, didn't I?" Wedekind sighed with an equal, yet mocking, enthusiasm. "You'd better head off before she demolishes your things, then."

"It's not my _things _that I'm worried for," Elphaba muttered as she nodded a quick goodbye and headed out of the door, similarly to her last exist from the place. Tightening her coat collar around a thin neck once she caught the breeze outside, the green girl hurried into the off-campus town, consumed with a guilt not easily admitted of a stood up, fed up, in a unfussy way of speaking, date.

- - -

**Oh, another daydream sequence! What of Wedekind, by the way: should he stay around, or unexplicably high tail it out of the plot? Brownie points for the person who cites where the name Wedekind comes from in the recent Broadway line up. (p.s- You'll want to press the button. You know. The button.)**


	9. Love is Always Transparent

Disclaimer: **"**_**I'll take Wicked for two hundred, please**_**."**

"**Wicked was inspired to become a production by this popular phenomenon."**

**//Buzz// "**_**What is dim sum**_**?"**

"**Pretty darn close. But, no."**

Note: **All right, I finished this chapter... five point two seconds ago. There will be spelling and grammatical errors for sure, but it's not as though a gal can't go back and fix those. There were some lovely, inspiring reviews from chapter eight that I'd like to thank the lot for, including 'she who will sign in later'. That was wonderful.**

- - -

The chemical reaction burst forth as an intruding military might storm a citadel to stain the hovering ceiling with a curious navy blue tinge, particles of chopped cow hide slowly sagging back to the counter. A pungent earthy scent filled Elphaba's nose invasively, and she hurriedly pinched her nostrils shut whilst tending to the mess responsively, gasping for breath and rubbing a cleansing agent across the counter with a pitiful rag worse off than the current state of Dr. Dillamond's laboratory.

Despite the deceptive exterior of the space; tiled in stone and enough to induce hyperventilation in a claustrophobic; all four sides of the encasement either corroded or cratered from past experiments, a symbol of a series of past successes and failures, it had burrowed a place into Elphaba's heart, overlapping her comfort of a library, and much more nostalgic than a memory of a charming smile on a man she could not recognise.

Dr. Dillamond spent the majority of his time not teaching in the room, damage the walls contained worn by he like badges of honour, reminders of why he slaved over beakers and toxins so. To Elphaba, sacrifice for the sake of ones intention was most admirable and courageous a quality. She had contemplated whether her father was worthy of this title, and concluded on various occasions that her father's courage and dignity was none of her concern.

"Nothing to fear," the Goat shouted, as though the haze of smoke would hinder the hearing as well as sight. He waved his hoofs around in attempt to clear the room. "There's nothing to fear, it was just a tiny reaction. I suspect it will hardly cause a dent," he continued raising his goggled eyes to the ceiling, "but perhaps the… the colour… will have to serve as a decoration change."

"It's all right, Dr. Dillamond, I can stay later this evening and clean it off," Elphaba assured as she worked, occasionally wiping her own protective goggles of fogging.

The old Goat moseyed his way over to the counter where Elphaba set aside the unscathed beaker with remaining residue, straightening out his coat. "Are you certain? Here, let me take over while you open a window." The Goat continued to wipe, stomping on the rag so that it moved along the countertop.

Elphaba glanced over her shoulder at her professor, reluctantly moving to open the window facing Crage Hall, the majority of the smoke dissipated or already migrating out into the salubrious evening air. She attempted to sight her own dorm room window across the constellations riddling the building, then gave up after her eyes crossed and turned away, tearing the goggles from her head.

"I've kept you here long enough, Miss Elphaba, I'm certain there are better things for you to make of an evening," babbled the Goat as he continued to wipe and seldom effectively clean, so Elphaba took the rag and rung it out.

"It's not a problem," nodded the green girl. The relaxing scent of outdoor air wafted through the room and aerated the inexorable chemical odour. "I took this opportunity to help you because I wanted to. Nevertheless," she sighed, "I was hoping this failure would have borne more substantial results."

The Goat looked up from his end of the counter, snout morphed into what seemed to be an expression of outrage.

"Failure!" he boomed, using his lecture hall volume. Elphaba flinched. "Failure? Why, Miss Elphaba, perhaps you are too young to understand this day, but you will come to realize that there are no failures in science. Simply, we have uncovered another way in which our hypothesis is incompatible. We'll eventually uncover the idyllic product." He paused, mischief in his tone of voice. "Do you know why, Miss Elphaba?"

The green girl smirked, then re-rolled the sleeves of her frock since they had loosened from repetitive motion. Another feature she enjoyed about being an aide to the Doctor was that he didn't treat her as an assistant to experiments, but as an apprentice. "Because of the interconnectivity between all things," she replied, moving to clean out the equipment contaminated by the experiment. "Functional characteristics of an individual organism responds and adapts over generations of physiological metamorphosis."

"Correct!" roared the Goat. "Which is precisely why I have invested so much confidence into this particular research."

"As I have, Dr. Dillamond," Elphaba agreed flatly, mustering up a weak smile. Perhaps it was the insufferable scent in the air that evening that possessed the girl to feel unenthusiastic. The green girl knew that no matter how she tried to diverge from the subject, it would always dwell in the recesses of her mind- a reminder of what one was condemned to when committed to a friendship. When one possessed friends, they placed oneself in vulnerability of potentially damaging emotional hardship, not unlike stepping in front of a stampede.

"Once more with a little less enthusiasm," sniffed the Doctor. "A passion for life sciences transcends lifestyle, Miss Elphaba."

"Excuse me?" Elphaba stumbled boorishly, barely catching the alluding rasp in the Goat's voice.

"I mean to say," bleated the Doctor, "that you've hardly responded to any instructions all day, and even then, you'd forgotten to add the actual tea to my tea."

The expression fell from Elphaba's face and she cursed her clumsiness inwardly. "Oh- I'm sorry, Dr. Dillamond. I hadn't known… that is to say, I never meant…"

The Doctor held a neatly polished hoof in the air and shook his head. "My objective to this conversation is not to chastise you. Besides, I've always despised tea- I much more enjoy the sugar water from my summers spent in Quox. And as a professor, it is anything but my business to interfere," he said, advancing slowly towards the green girl, who was much more concerned with how she could possibly forget to add the main ingredient to tea. "But as a friend, dear, I wish to cast away whatever has been causing your absent-mindedness as of late, and that perpetual frown on your pretty face."

Elphaba cast him another weak smile, which came out more of a grimace as she imagined the taste to milky, sugary water. The Doctor smiled back, and made to nudge her with his hoof, not quite reaching her elbow, although it could have been the goggles obstructing his view.

"Well?" he beckoned, leaning against the newly mopped counter.

"My roommate and I had a falling out, nothing more," Elphaba waved her hand, skimming the surface of her discomfort, hoping to be rid of the subject. As much as she valued the Goat's opinion, it felt strange to be encompassed by a spotlight of concern.

"Refresh my memory on your object of discomposure," summoned the Goat nonchalantly.

"Galinda Arduenna," replied the green girl. "We share a suite in Crage Hall due to some misinterpretation. Have you met her?"

"Ah yes, Miss _Glinda_," the Goat nodded his head, his tongue clicking mid-pronunciation of the blonde's name, forcing Elphaba to suppress a snort of laughter. Perhaps he mistook it for a sob of emotion, however uncharacteristic that might have been, and consequently continued speaking in a softer timbre. "We shared a compartment on the train upon her first semester; she was wildly disinterested in conversing. A tad incompetent, that one."

"And yet, my friend nonetheless," sighed Elphaba tiredly.

"A friend, eh? Forgive my manner of prejudice, but she doesn't seem the girl one befriends, more the type to construct a staircase from various peoples' heads," hinted the Goat, and he was not erroneous. Galinda had an empire of admirers in which she could use and dispose of without so much of a complaint said to her face, and climbed the social ladder by using and being used. It was, in Elphaba's opinion, the cruellest method of tending to a person- to change one's emotions into a plaything, and disassemble them when their employment had terminated.

And yet, Galinda's involvement in the name game had begun to lessen, as well as her interest or true investments in it didn't seem to exist at all. From what the green girl saw, Galinda was apart of the social society to live up to Oz's expectations as s daughter of wealth.

So many nights Elphaba had watched the blonde lie belly up with her eyes wide open, shining brighter than the moon they reflected from, until it disappeared and was replaced by a new day. This didn't corroborate Elphaba's initial theory that her roommate was actually a tick-tock creature sent to gain the trust of humanity and then slowly destroy it, but that she and Galinda shared a discontent for their skins.

"But this is different, Dr. Dillamond," blurted Elphaba, her back turned from the Goat while sorting out materials. Her fingers, poised, froze over the counter as she spoke, barely noticing her zealous words. "It's like an overwhelming understanding of all existing things, except I don't seem to care, save for how we feel about each other. I would know if she were false, else I wouldn't be feeling so incredibly… exultant. And now I," she paused, turned to find the Doctor wearing an expression so amused, she feared he would burst out into guttural, mocking cackles, "may have ruined an amity."

"I see," murmured the Goat, tearing the goggles from his face in order to pat down the hair on his snout, his expression of deep concentration. He looked up at his suddenly nervous student and chuckled fondly, his eyes warm. "Could you hand me the red sodium oxide solution to your left? Ah, yes, the dark purple one," he instructed, nodding in thanks as Elphaba set down the beaker in front of him.

"I thought you were going to retire for the evening?" reminded Elphaba, hoping he hadn't suffered momentary senility.

"Yes, that had occurred to me. And then I realized that perhaps if I altered our measurements in appropriate proportion, the results might vary in a much more pleasing response."

Elphaba inhaled deeply, mulling over the Goat's proposal. She never knew exactly what his intentions were, but ran the equations over in her mind quickly, then added alterations. It didn't make entirely that much sense, but she decided it was worth another try. "All right," she agreed confidently, raising her shoulders into formal posture. "I'll get the-"

"Not so fast, Miss Elphaba," Dr. Dillamond held up a hoof to immobilize the girl in her tracks. "I will conduct the experiment alone."

"Alone?" echoed the girl, an inkling of what was to come ejecting a cloud of dread in her mind. It was almost like physical pain, like a burst blood vessel.

"I will still pay you for this night, because it is in my opinion that renewing your friendship is a job well done." There was a certain twinkle in the Goat's eyes; one that implied something the green girl couldn't place specifically. Be it sincerity or derision, the green girl nodded, not planning to complain about a direct order from a connoisseur, as much as it pained her to realize what was occurring. "I want you away from my laboratory and off experiencing this 'overwhelming understanding of all existing things' with your roommate. After all, dear, it is once in a lifetime you get to feel divinity."

Elphaba's eyebrows connected in confusion as she advanced towards the Goat. "But, Sir-" she cleared her throat. "Your pace increases when you've someone to fetch your equipment-"

"The more time you spend here, vacillated, the less time you have to save your friendship," the strange, novelty expression appeared again, and the Doctor smiled kindly. "The lesser I will pay you. Go!"

-

It was as though the boys were one single entity before, as Galinda did not pay enough vigilance to each, as they were both lanky and long faced, as cartoonists might portray the young adult. Their similar dispositions made it difficult for her to differentiate who was who, even now, as they scrounged through her vanity for cosmetics, wearing vastly differentiating trousers, and twittering throughout the room like tsetse flies drawn to the sweet, sugary musk of ripened fruit.

"You're asking us about boys, Miss Galinda?" Crope asked, skimming bristles of a brush through a can of rouge powder with careful deliberation.

Tibbet, sitting at the vanity backwards, let out a dramatic chuckle. "Oh, how I know boys. Where to begin?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Ah. They have higher levels of testosterone than in females, tend to have body hair in unnecessary areas of the person, like to hear how manly they are, and believe it or not, are not the most dominant population. There's a small percentage more of women than men in Oz, even if they rule with an iron Wizard-y fist."

"And don't forget the most crucial differentiation, my friend," Crope cautioned. "I have yet to meet a girl who's been born with a pe-"

"I didn't mean boys specifically," rushed the blonde, hoping to catch Crope mid-sentence, else he would utter something unfathomably uncouth to be heard in a ladies' dormitory. "I just meant _a _boy. Well," Galinda flipped her hair, and recrossed her legs with frustration. No matter how she tried, she couldn't find a comfortable position, never mind mentally. "Just romantic advice."

"We're flattered," Tibbet nodded enthusiastically, and this time, he wasn't being sarcastic.

Despite their chic fitness for upper society, minus the vulgarity in speech, the two were not included in cliques Galinda considered useful for social success. Although, they were subject to gossip one usually circulates in a hushed voice on the verge of laughter, not because they were of embarrassing behaviour, but of racy repute. A thus far, for Galinda, the absolute zenith of social accomplishment, to call upon them would likely be Elphaba's equivalent to maintaining an entire semester's work of above average percentage.

"I haven't exactly been the most diligent friend-" Galinda kept her eyes downcast, but felt the room shake as Crope did an odd sort of leap towards the bed in which she sat, holding out his hands to order her to stop.

"Miss Galinda, we've given dating advice to the head of the literature department," Crope grinned, pulling the dark bangs from his eyes. "Doesn't matter what you've done, only that you asked."

_That_, Galinda thought, _is precisely why they aren't fit for the likes of Pfannee, Shenshen, Milla, and Avaric_. Inwardly, the blonde sighed, her shoulders slumping for a moment in uncontainable repudiation. _And me,_ she thought miserably. _They aren't fit for the likes of me_.

"Besides, we want to know things like if he's cute, how he kisses, how far you've gone… you know, only the really important things," Tibbet agreed, patting Galinda on the shoulders.

"Let's start off with the very first question. If you have to squint whilst thinking, Miss Galinda, you know it's hopeless," Crope instructed, taking a seat on the other side of the blonde.

Galinda swallowed hard, feeling nervousness pool in her stomach already. "All right," she answered shakily.

Crope cleared his throat ceremoniously. "Is he handsome?"

Tibbet's eyes widened, and he struck the bed with his palm, eliciting a slight elastic sound from the foundation of the bedsprings. "I saw her squint!" he cried with scandal.

"No, I did not!" argued Galinda, her lips forming into a habitual pout, and she ground her teeth thinking of a defence. Meanwhile, Crope's mouth was hanging open in anticipation, bangs fallen back into his eyes, making it the only visible facial expression. "It's just… I wouldn't say handsome. It's different than the boys I usually date."

"Okay, process of elimination," Tibbet began excitedly, rearranging himself on the bed. "If he anything like Avaric?"

Galinda made a face, feeling utterly ridiculous. There was still the small confession that she wanted help with Elphaba, and the recent betrayal of the green girl, and the advice she was seeking from two boys who, from word of mouth, preferred the company of those whose gender likened theirs. If she didn't maintain her charade, would they feel offended? Worse yet, discovering the object of her affection and frustration whilst seeking popularity from the very crowd who shunned them, would they leave and embarrass her?

"My Oz, no," Galinda chuckled, imagining setting Elphaba and Avaric side-by-side for comparison. They would claw each other to ribbon before cooperating to share a room.

"How about like Boq?" Crope ventured.

Galinda's eyes widened with the horrible association, and shouted, "No!" more loudly than intended.

"That gets the first trouble out of the way," Tibbet nodded, wiping his hands as though descending from a blackboard. "Now, when he kisses you, is it like a mysterious love affair, an absolute bonding of souls, or a trip to a farm gone terribly wrong?"

"You both realize I had a legit question to ask?" Galinda sighed, watching as various octaves of snorting emitted from behind Crope's hands, slapped over his mouth, eyes bulging behind his bangs. "Stop laughing, I'm supposed to be really angry right now!"

"Did he break your heart?" Tibbet gasped, his lung capacity more than full. "Did he cheat on you?"

"Did you catch him wearing your clothing?" giggled the other boy, still having difficulty recovering from Tibbet's last jibe.

"No," Galinda pouted defensively. "I'm going absolutely crazy. I've been stood up, lead to various pointless directions, and worst off, have to see him every day. I turned down a very prestigious invitation to Lake Chorge in order to tend to this relationship, but it would seem that it has always been quite one sided."

Crope shook his head. "He did try on your clothing, didn't he?" he asked sympathetically.

A frustrated squeal escaped Galinda's mouth as she grabbed a pillow from behind and whacked Crope in the face; the best one could hope for was that his hair would deflate. Unfortunately for the Frottican, Crope arose from the strike with a silly grin plastered onto his face, and he clasped on small shoulder gently.

"I have to say," he said quietly. "That was the most relaxing brawl I've ever participated in. It's as though I've had a complete Winkie rejuvenation massage, free of charge. Thanks!"

"Careful, Crope, she might use her fists next," Tibbet warned, raising his eyebrows solemnly to subdue the other boy. Galinda had not realized, but her face had contorted into a piteous expression, having just released anger she could not confide in people who had left for the weeklong break, and instead, had to confess to the campus buffoons. Tibbet wrung his hands thoughtfully. "Perhaps it would be best if you just came out and told Miss Elphaba why you're so angry."

"I can't tell her now, she's going to think me completely-" Galinda froze with her mouth hanging open. Her breathing ceased, and cool night air blew from outside the open window and into her mouth. A strangled noise escaped her throat, and she snapped her mouth shut.

Tibbet shrugged his shoulders, sharing a look with his companion and giggled. "Surprise!" he grinned.

"But-" Galinda was at a loss for words, stuck in a limbo of incredulity, and the nervous feeling in her stomach's transformation into absolute dread and terror, for that of her social and romantic careers. "How? I mean…"

"Oh dear, I think you've plucked out her tongue, Tibbet," Crope announced plainly.

"No, dear, she's still managing a few syllables," Tibbet said, inspecting the blonde's face. "Miss Galinda, you can't expect us completely daft."

"I- I can't?" she asked, confused. Her nails were digging into the bed sheets, and an overwhelming sensation of nausea threatened to ruin Galinda's dress and the hardwood floor beneath her feet.

Crope smiled. "Well, first you both hate one another. And then, miraculously, you come to a mutual agreement not to scratch each others' eyes out, which, personally, I never thought would work out. Then," he enunciated clearly, as though performing a monologue, "Boq and Miss Elphie become bread and butter, and you suddenly hate Boq's guts. And now you both decide to spend the break together, and she says you won't speak to her because of some incident the other night."

"And, of course, the stolen glances," Tibbet added happily.

"And forbidden daydreams," Crope's tone of voice dropped to an airy sigh.

"And attempts at covering up the worry for when she'll next return to you."

"Is it… that transparent?" Galinda asked weakly, the cool air suddenly chilling against her flesh, her chest heaving unevenly as she imagined the repercussions of her submission in the conversation.

"Oh, come off it, Miss Galinda, love is always transparent, no matter how hard one tries to hide it," Crope said, patting her hand, then unclenching the fistful of sheet tat it clutched. "I mean, just look at me and Tibbatron over there."

"Love?" Galinda repeated, a portion more nauseous than before. "And… you two…"

"If we splashed her with water, perhaps she might snap out of it," Tibbet advised the other boy, who nodded in agreement, and stood to leave.

"No! I'll form full sentences now, there's no need to ruin my face," Galinda promised, grabbing Crope by the wrist and thrusting him down. "It's just… love? How… Do you think she loves me back?"

Tibbet bit his lip, as though he didn't want to be the one to bear unfortunate news to the blonde. "She's always very… concerned for you."

-

"Miss Elphaba!"

Elphaba stopped in her tracks and spun around, used now to not having to ignore people jeering at her in the streets, for the fact that now it wasn't always of derogatory gesture. Her book bag slapped into her cloaked hip violently, a sign that she'd been walking too fast to actually be paying attention. Clutching her side irritably, the green girl spun around to meet an approaching Wedekind, glasses falling down the bridge of his large nose with every lunge he took.

"Master Wedekind, it's awfully suspicious to lurk around waiting to call out to women in the dark," Elphaba greeted in monotone, as soon as the boy was within earshot.

"It's hardly dark yet; you've actually just spoiled my cover," Wedekind accused, pushing up his spectacles.

"I believe it was you who called out to me as a I passed, my only hope to return home to where I cannot be heckled by street folk," grinned the green girl.

"That was pretty much my intention too, but then I forgot where I was going," he grinned back lazily.

They spent a moment without words, grinning at one another the way friends share a secret joke, or lovers concealing their true identities might, until it became an awkward, almost painful facial expression for Elphaba. The breeze in the air picked up, distant rustling of lush leaves passing over and under each other growing to an audible annoyance. The remembrance of why Elphaba was hurrying back to her dorm room came rushing back like a surge of dread that follows chastisement.

Wedekind cleared his throat and slipped his hands into each trouser pocket. "I… uh, wanted to ask you… you're Miss Elphaba Thropp?"

"I thought we'd finished the introduction a while ago. Do you not recall when you struck down my meagre ability and languages, and followed by appraising my knowledge of life sciences?"

"I recall very well, Miss, but I was only asking for reassurance of your family name," Wedekind said determinedly.

"Yes, I'm a Thropp. Why?"

"As in, the Eminent Thropp of Munchkinland?" The boy raised a single brow and peered at her throw the lenses of his semicircular spectacles, and the darkened atmosphere.

Elphaba sighed, unsure of how the southern Munchkinlander would respond to her honesty. "That's correct."

Wedekind suddenly grew uncomfortable, adopting some of the discomfiture that manifested in the green girl only moments before. He coughed. "So, do I… bow at you?"

Elphaba's lip curled into an unconscious sneer. "Just as long as you don't throw anything at me."

"And why would I?" Wedekind asked genuinely, his knees wavering, as though perhaps he might bow.

The campus was absolutely deserted; save for the shrubbery and trees blooming bright olives and pastel shades, which became an unappreciated, single shade of grey when the sun went down. The scent of autumn was much more prominent in the breeze, though it was months away- perhaps someone was burning their chimney, or Dr. Dillamond had managed to fry his fur coat clean off his body in Elphaba's absence.

Elphaba gave a shrug. "Well, why do you ask after my grandfather?"

"I was just thinking that perhaps he'd appoint me a steady job if he knew I educated his heir in the way of southern Munchkin," grinned the boy.

Elphaba shook her head, unable to suppress a grin back. "What if he knew the incredible amounts of time I'd wasted on you?" She rearranged the book bag strap on her shoulder, and slowly scuttled from the boy to signal that their conversation would end at her convenience.

"Time well spent, Miss Elphaba!" Wedekind called after her, he, too, stumbling before leaving for his dormitory.

-

"Perhaps you should just storm up to her in the cafeteria, hold her very angular, very flat body in your arms- as you might grasp a parchment before beginning an exam- and announce your undying devotion, and torture over your secret yearning to bring your lips to- Oh. Hello, Elphaba."

Elphaba slowly brought the door to a close on its hinges, causing Galinda's fully reddened cheeks to snap upwards towards the sound. The green girl made a confused face at the scene in her dormitory, and threw the book bag onto the cot-like, uncomfortable looking bed.

"Hello, Tibbet, Crope. What brings you into this room against dormitory law, after hours?" queried the green girl suspiciously, although she wasn't so concerned. Her eyes glinted brighter than the tinge of her flesh with faith that the boys would make her laugh, perhaps lessen the tension that had suddenly sprang forth into the air, as a sponge thrown into water might expand.

"We live here, too?" Crope offered a weak smile.

"Of course. And my name also happens to be Madame Morrible," smirked Elphaba, raising her eyebrows in a pleasant warning.

Crope waved his hand at the green girl, feigning a cough to buy time for an excuse. "We were… um…"

"We thought Miss Galinda over here could help us master the proper application of cosmetic material, such as eye shadow, and the appropriate amount of rogue," Tibbet nodded, Crope grasping the boy's forearm in a silent thanks, also pouting in order for Elphaba to notice that he was wearing an amount of lipstick that did not send the wrong signal to boys from Three Queens.

"You know, some powders are enhanced by using fish in the ingredients. I doubt many factory owning corporations would be supervising whether they were buying fish or Fish," informed Elphaba, her expression amused, although formulating questions she hoped Galinda would be able to answer without averting her eyes. When the blonde averted her eyes, Elphaba knew for sure that she was lying. If Galinda would lie to her now, the green girl thought perhaps she would have to lock herself in the lavatory and let out a few sobs.

"Oh! Not _these_ powders!" Crope argued, scrambling to his feet and grabbing two coats, throwing one at Tibbet. "No, never. Because we were… yeah."

Reaching the distance of the door, the boys pried it open and practically flew down the hallway as though being chased by a curse, but not before Tibbet re-emerged and gave both girls an enthusiastic thumbs up. They left the room completely silent, as though tearing all the noise away with them, the door hanging open, and the two girls to their lonesome. Galinda was kneeling on the floor, where she and Crope were watching as Tibbet spoke before the green girl had interfered, still quite embarrassed for being caught in a position not exactly compromising, but unlikely, indeed.

"Well articulated, they are," Galinda laughed nervously, deciding to break the silence that was reminiscent to a crushing force. She wanted to get up from the floor, but realized that her and Elphaba's height would still be mismatched anyhow.

"Yes," agreed Elphaba absently, seeming much more preoccupied with keeping Galinda's gaze, who was now fully locked into the glinting shade of brown that it seemed would not stop shining, even when Crope and Tibbet were gone. For the briefest of moments, Elphaba swayed, as though she would join Galinda on the floor.

Instead, she offered a hand to bring the blonde to her feet.

- - -  
**It is done. Please submit your every thought and move whilst reading the chapter, not reading the chapter, et cetera. Is anyone feeling depraved of fluff, or may I continue at the pace that makes even I want to tear my hair out? Now it's up to youuuu.**


	10. While Boq is Away

Disclaimer:** Pearls, and ruby rings. How can worldly things take the place of honour lost? Can they compensate for my fallen state? Purchased as they were at such an awful cost… //wields dismembered head of Gregory Maguire//**

Note: **Ahah! It's been a week and one day, which is, really, pretty good, considering the fact that my monitor blew yesterday. Expect delays in the next week. Anyway, I'd like to hand out my thanks to the people who insist in not signing in. It bothers me, because I can't reply to you! XD**

- - -

With Galinda standing in front of the green girl, chin angled upwards to suggest that it be Elphaba who speak, blonde curls drawn away from her cheeks to hang at her exposed neck, the rigid girl felt herself shudder involuntarily at the escaped breeze dancing past her shoulders from the open window. At least, as she jerked away from the diminutive of the two, and silently went to lock the window's latch (else rain might be propelled right into their safe haven), Elphaba expected that it had been the breeze.

Perhaps the encouraging words from Dr. Dillamond, or the sudden commencement of conversation from the girl who had sworn away from ever again speaking to her, Elphaba began to feel as though her own latch had broken open, allowing a gust of something indecipherable into her chest. It was dreadfully liberating, and not exactly what she wanted to accompany her outburst in front of the old Goat professor.

"I thought you would be helping Dr. Dillamond all evening," Galinda remarked, more than likely shuffling her feet or fluffing out the skirts of her plain, but pretty spring dress.

Elphaba carefully wrapped her fingers around the latch and shook it violently, experimenting how the wind might break it open. She did this at least three times per week, especially during rainy seasons. Ensuring that the window was secure, she replied whilst watching the blonde's reflection. "He sent me back early," she explained quietly.

Galinda was biting her bottom lip now, deliberating her words with blatant consideration. "I should hope nothing is the matter," she called out, noticing that Elphaba had not yet turned to face her.

"I… um, forgot to add the tea to his tea, as a elementary summary of today," Elphaba muttered, watching as the window glass played tricks on her vision, waves of grasses leaning to and fro in the wind fading out to show Galinda's reflection as the small girl stood uncomfortably in the centre of the room. The green girl took turns concentrating on each.

"Oh," Galinda mumbled, casting her eyes downwards at her shoes. She had been well educated in Elphaba's convictions in the Goat's work, and her admiration for him fundamentally. "That could happen to anyone, I suppose. He wouldn't send you home for something petty as that, would he?"

The complete innocence, whether feigned or caused by lack of comprehension, in Galinda's voice made Elphaba's lips spread into a small smile, even though she felt like sneering. It seemed people kept misinterpreting her body language lately, so much so that perhaps even her own body was mistaking her mind. She thought back to her conversation with Dr. Dillamond; the knowing smile he kept flashing when she spoke of her roommate, the assumptions that perhaps she had been wondering herself, as well.

"It wasn't that, it's just-" the green girl paused; almost sure that Galinda had leant forward in anticipation. "Galinda, are we… strange?"

The blonde pulled a face, unsure of how to answer a query from the other girl that wasn't mockery. "How do you mean?"

"As in, us together, as friends. Are we strange?" Elphaba watched as the blonde's face transformed into that of either deep thought, or concealment. It didn't seem as though she would receive a reply any time soon, so she went on, turning around to face away from the window. "Or, would that be a bad thing?"

"You and I are strange enough on our lonesome," Galinda agreed carefully. "I say, to appear strange to the public by your lonesome is unfavourable, but to share peculiarity with someone else is… just fine. I say."

"You already said, 'I say'," Elphaba let go of the window, her arm still extended as she approached the blonde. She let the long limb fall to her side and ground her teeth with anxiety. Perhaps this was the first conversation they had shared in which the tension effected their dialogue. The green girl certainly wasn't enjoying it.

"I did, didn't I?" giggled the blonde, but it was false as showing Elphaba outside and claiming it was daylight.

"Galinda, when you consider strangeness, you relate to an eccentricity, right?" she watched as the blonde nodded nervously, and settled for leaning against the blonde's desk. "You have to include that sometimes the public doesn't necessarily stand for eccentricities."

"When has that ever stopped either one of us before?" Galinda argued, her tone risen in anger, catching onto the unvoiced focus of their conversation.

Elphaba trained her eyes upon her crossed arms; hands disappeared beneath her flanking elbows. "It's as though we're still living in a theocracy, and even then, this side of Oz is quite conservative."

"I can pay people into open mindedness," Galinda's voice still boomed across the ceiling of the dormitory.

"Maybe now, but later, when Lurline and the Unnamed God and the Wizard deem you inhuman?" Elphaba's voice rose to match the blonde's, perhaps in mockery, but her expression expressed her concern, and something of sadness. It was already decided that the heart of the conversation would not be verbally articulated, which said very little for future potency.

Galinda passed a tired look. "Elphie, do we have to do this now?"

"I never apologized for the other night, did I?" Elphaba wondered aloud, still watching her arms.

"I never should have mistreated you afterwards," Galinda shuffled over to lean against the same desk as the green girl, perhaps to avoid catching eyes.

"It's not as though you behaved inappropriately being cross with me," shrugged Elphaba.

"It's not entirely appropriate to use an apology as a way to sever the subject, either," Galinda looked over at Elphaba's downcast face, her expression as fractious as she felt, her chest bubbling with something quite stimulating. She waited patiently for Elphaba to meet her gaze.

"I thought you didn't want to speak about it," blinked the green girl.

"It was a figure of speech, Elphie," the blonde muttered.

"Strange figure of speech," the green girl mused, inching towards the blonde.

"There have been a lot of strange things going on, lately," Galinda remarked, painfully aware of how close her green roommate had become. It was a short distance, but enough to steal her breath. "Crop and Tibbet tell me Master Boq is away for the break?"

Elphaba smirked, the cast her eyes elsewhere. "He went back to Munchkinland- something about a senile old bat."

"Silly boy, Madam Morrible doesn't live all the way over there," Galinda joked in airy, quieted voice, but it was enough to cause her companion to jerk once in silent laughter.

"He really fancies you, you know," continued the rigid girl, her expression neutral as ever. It gave the impression that their dilemma was past, but the girl's mind said otherwise. "All the times he's tried to tell you, using even me as eyes and ears. Perhaps you should sign him off the intent, for the sanity of us all. Before he learns the ukulele and performs a love song outside our window."

"It's certainly not him I wish to be fancied by," Galinda looked over at the other girl hopefully.

"We can't always earn what we wish for," Elphaba said matter-of-factly.

Galinda was still gazing at the green girl, vying for her utmost attention. "I do believe I've earned it enough."

And then, she had it. Alarmingly so, Elphaba's eyes met Galinda's, and a silent conversation aside from the vocal traversed their imaginations like wild fire burning through dry wood. Unanswered questions flooded Elphaba, but she deliberated that, no matter the outcome, something had to be done, else she would personally take up the ukulele and teach Boq how to utilize it.

"Galinda," she asked suddenly, "if I did something this moment, something likely unsolicited, or perhaps inappropriate for such a moment, would you trust me?"

"I've entrusted you to many things, Miss Elphie, don't be silly," Galinda chuckled some, tearing her eyes away fretfully. There was intensity in Elphaba's expression that had contaminated the blonde, yet closer the green girl slid along the desk towards her. "Elphaba, what are y-"

It might have been an impulse, but certainly not a dream. So long as it wasn't a dream, even if Galinda tore away in disgust, Elphaba would be satisfied. Although, the green girl liked to think that she was a fine interpreter, and be the underlying subject of the past conversation correctly guessed and discussed accordingly by the green, unusually tall Munchkin, perhaps this rare occasion of impulsiveness would pay off, if not for these split seconds.

After a clock-tick, Elphaba was fairly sure that Galinda's responding lips were certainly not falsify of a daydream, as the shocking sensation the green girl had never felt before shot straight through her body, to focus on the arousal of one, errant place. She brushed the other girl's cheek and tilted her face to one side, feeling a forceful hand come up to shoulder and bring her nearer, trailing down to just above Elphaba's breast.

What began as delicate became profundity, and Elphaba began to miss the privilege of breathing. Even though this certainly was not fantasy, she willed, chanted in her head, at least to keep it as reality for a minute longer. All she needed was a minute, but perhaps her body would need longer to settle down the fire roused within her.

She broke away, not used to the absence of air, and gasped against Galinda's lips, the girl's eyes shut tightly, and mouth pressed to Elphaba's once more, in the chaste way all of it was formerly intended.

"Elphaba-" breathed the Frottican girl, barely conscious that her eyes were still shut. She imagined that while the green girl's face was pressing against her own, that her eyes would be closed, as well.

"We should go to dinner," instructed Elphaba. She leaned away, but the hand that remained on her was swift, and grabbed her shoulder, inching her closer to Galinda again.

"Are you sure that would be the best course of action right now?" asked the blonde, opening her eyes, not imagining the following to the last moment as whining to her roommate.

"If we don't leave here," Elphaba began, her voice unusually soprano and girlish, "I will be bereaved of capability to control anything uncouth that ensues."

If the green girl looked as terrified as she felt, she would have been a pitiable sight, indeed. Meanwhile, Galinda's eyes were dodging up and down, trying to read whatever Elphaba would say next. She wasn't contented with sharing a kiss she had been tortured after for months on end, and then thrown away, but it would seem as though Elphaba would play authority that night. She hoped, desperately, that the green girl would choose to kiss her again.

"A-all right," she stuttered, watching as Elphaba moved away from her and went to gather their coats. The blonde wiped her mouth, wondering if the phantom sensation of Elphaba's forcefully taking hers would cease. The atmosphere in the room was unbearably suffocating, and Galinda was glad for being able to escape.

By the composed, formal attitude they had assembled and exited Crage Hall in, one might assume that it _was_ all just a dream.

-

The calmness of sitting alongside Suicide Canal was fairly ironic to its title; late morning was one of the sunniest times of day, although the cool, dewy grasses were left untouched from the night's rainfall. Rays of white sunlight cascaded through tree branches to light Wedekind's view as he sat beneath them, aiding his bottom by placing his coat neatly before being seated. The canal, impossibly still and inviting to a parched throat or itching legs, was as tranquil as the activity buzzing through Shiz's campus.

A good majority of the students had either gone home, or found a satisfactory job through the break to keep them occupied, including the dark haired boy. The cobblestone walkways, greys, browns and blues stained darkly from rain, were hardly inhabited by beating feet, the occasional boy adorned in an apron or a one piece would hurry by, rushing, in vain, to be on time.

If worldly things could not interrupt the scene, Crope and Tibbet would definitely be suitable fore ruining it, which they did. A pink, frilled umbrella, pilfered from the drama department, was lazily thrown, open, over Tibbet's shoulder, as he and Crope strolled along the cobblestone and waved merrily at those who passed. Some would ignore them; others who knew them would greet with vigour and scurry away. They spoke loudly, laughing gutturally, until the reached the tree shading Wedekind's occupied hands.

"Has the post arrived?" Crope asked pleasantly, peering over the sitting boy's shoulder to the note in his hands.

"Is it from Boq? Do read it," Tibbet commanded, closing the umbrella and launching it away in a most maladroit manner, sitting Indian-style beside Wedekind, who was opening the beige envelope carefully, the cheap waxen seal crumbling under his fingers.

"Isn't it a lovely morning, boys?" Wedekind asked as he worked. "It's morning like these that make me want to improve life sciences; to comprehend how it all comes to pass."

"If you don't come to pass with that envelope soon, I'll have to fetch the umbrella and crack you over the head," warned Crope, anxiously awaiting the letter.

"I hadn't expected the post to arrive so fast, did you? He'll mention you both, don't worry," the boy said, unfolding the letter.

"It's not us I worry for, believe me, Master Wedekind," Crope shook his head.

"Such writing! Boq's never been one for accuracy, has he? Look, he mispellt 'dear'," chuckled the spectacled boy. Tibbet bounced on his feet and emitted an odd sort of whining noise, so Wedekind glared at him, and then focused on the letter. "It says,

"_Dere Wedekind,_

"_It's a shame you couldn't accompany me to this place. I swear, if I must drink another pot of tea, or consume another biscuit, I will simply burst down the middle. You're lucky to have gained a job off-campus. Admittedly, I should have been as vigilant as you._

"_Grandfather is strapping, as always. He asked after you, then forgot your name, followed by calling me your father's name, and so on. Nothing seems to be in dire turmoil here in the northern parts, but it is true that I have yet to see an Animal walking of its own free will. How swiftly they have managed to be pushed from view or concern is miraculous. If you ever have a chance, dear Wedekind, you should speak with either Dr. Dillamond, head of life sciences, or Miss Elphaba Thropp. Either/or may educate you properly in the recent injustices against Animals, especially here in Munchkinland, while I am away._

_"Speaking of Miss Elphaba- if Crope and Tibbet and hovering over your shoulder, please, ensure they behave-"_ To this, Tibbet let out a great guffaw, and Crope chuckled, easing down along the tree trunk to read the letter with his own eyes, as well as be read to, "_see to it that she receives my regards if accompanied by the dazzling Miss Galinda Arduenna. You might spot her from the enchanting smile, or the halo-like blonde curls. You already know of my love for her- if only she knew whilst I am away. This is all just to keep you preoccupied when taking prolonged breaks from your preposterously easily gained job, mind you."_

"A great many things may occur during the span of a week," Tibbet pointed out knowingly, eliciting a giggle from Crope. Wedekind frowned, looking from one boy to the next, as if to anticipate the secretive subject.

"I much agree. Especially when one is in solitude from a usually crowded facility," added the other boy.

Wedekind continued to look bewilderedly between them. "You've both adopted a proper way of speaking," he commented suspiciously. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing at all!" squealed Crope, bunching his hands together. "We were only discussing a previous subject of… how many things a man can miss when he's gone from home."

"Something about Boq?" Wedekind asked slowly, as if trying to interpret the panic of a canine.

"Perhaps indirectly," drawled Tibbet, rolling his eyes snobbishly. "It's just, with such dire times of society, and such detached life in desperate need of… care and _comfort_…"

"You've lost my concentration now," chastised the oblivious boy, thinking of how the other Munchkin would fit into that categorization, which, in truth, he did not. Be it that Crope and Tibbet were perceptive as friends or followers, or maybe wishfully hopeful of not being the only unkempt to Shiz's student body, but the green girl's pupil would never understand their reference to Elphaba and Galinda.

"I notice, dear boy, that Master Boq's letter has not been completed," Tibbet pointed to the parchment.

"I thought you only wished to hear your part," Wedekind looked down at the paper. "What does worry me is his attachment to this Miss Galinda Arduenna."

"It's a dog-to-master kind of thing," Crope nodded. "Educated men just wouldn't be able to understand. Keep reading."

Wedekind adjusted his spectacles and sighed, returning to the letter. "It says,

"_I am continually perplexed by the female species, especially in consideration of the former. Do you ever feel this way? I am not nearly as desirable at this height by those of non-Munchkin heritage, and yet, my interest in one or the other seems to be, in one way or the next, returned or unrequited. Supposing, Miss Elphaba is an odd case, and a species of her own._

"A species of her own?" Wedekind repeated, his eyebrows meeting in a manifestation of anger. "That's a little rude, wouldn't you think?"

Tibbet flitted his hands in signal that the Munchkin should continue to read. Wedekind cleared his throat, looking about resentfully, and then back to the letter in his hands. "It says,

"_Meanwhile, I hope that your times on the break are merry, even with a job on your shoulders. Also, I would like to know of your progress in the life sciences. You seem so very determined that a higher score is deserved. I know many of your friends returned home or away for the break, so if ever you feel lonely, my friend become yours, as you doubtlessly have already discovered._

_All the best,_

_Cousin Boq._"

-

"You know, so many people claim that sneaking about provides exhilaration. I don't believe it. This is positively sixes and sevens."

"That would be categorized as adrenaline," Elphaba explained, ducking behind the gates to Shiz's campus, peering in to check if anyone would be guarded or watching. "People seek to induce an overproduction of it in their systems because the précis of the rest of their lives is too tedious. Besides, after hours rules are only enforced during breaks out of habit."

Galinda made a face behind the green girl's back, blinking dumbly. "Then why did you take Crope and Tibbet being in our room after hours so seriously?" she hissed in a whisper.

Elphaba smirked back through the dark at the blonde, the whites of her eyes being the only really visible thing, whereas Galinda's head was a halo of whiteness. "Because I wanted them out from our room, that's why."

The night air was much colder than anticipated by either girl; peculiar, since Elphaba had been wandering about beforehand. It might have been the contrast in temperatures from the small Bohemian restaurant they visited, despite this being the night following their quarrelling. Though the air might have been warm within, the two girls sitting upon cushions and sipping exotic teas from the Vinkus, their dispositions gradually chilled, neither one willing to speak of their kiss once Elphaba refused to discuss it upon the blonde's prompting. They shared their dinner pleasantly, but it became the falsify of Galinda's society friends.

Eventually, unpleasantly subsided, as any good friend's may never share a disagreement for long, and they left the restaurant arm-in-arm, jesting about the queer mannerisms of the facility, and Galinda of the cushions that, 'displeased her arse'.

Exposing her hands to be evaded by the cool air, Elphaba held her cloak together at the neck with spindly, dark digits, not anticipating the use of a scarf, and used odd scraps of junk from her pocket to provoke the gate's lock. Galinda squinted through the dark, hearing the green girl (now darkened as a Winkie in the evening) tinker with the gate, and impatiently jiggled on her toes.

The blonde sighed, placing a reluctant hand on the other girl's hunched shoulders. Elphaba was concentrated on the lock, squinting herself, the dedication appearing apt, and Galinda could have sworn she'd licked her lips. "Elphie, this is madness, you might as well call for a-"

"Ha!" breathed the green girl, as a mechanical clinking sounded and the lock detached from its socket. Elphaba pulled it off with nimble, numbed fingers, and let out an arm for Galinda to go first. "You may never claim I was inconvenient."

"Where did you learn something so devious?" asked the blonde, taking the green girl's hand in her own instead of preceding her. They remained connected as Elphaba snapped the lock back together and shook it, habitually from her fixation on keeping arid from the rain.

Elphaba smirked, concealed by the whites of her eyes that connected with the other girl. "I had an interesting childhood," explained she.

- - -

**Answer this for me- have I jipped the characters by adding in the love without much explanation? It felt so abrupt, but... so right. (Sombody should review- psst. You!)**


	11. Flames of Forgiveness

Disclaimer: **None of Wicked belongs to me; hey ho, who cares?**

Note: **It would seem that Christmas has flown right by, without an update- but I did receive a lovely head cold from Santa Claus this year. So bask in your vengeance while I blow my nose. This is my Boxing Day gift to anybody who reads. **

- - -

Shiz's auditorium was a great brick skeleton, erected lonely in the middle of the grounds and remained lonely most of the semester, save for the welcoming of first years and their eventual graduation. The ceiling extended so as to touch the clouds- the students sat low, natural acoustics aiding a speaker, though, undoubtedly, Morrible would cast some sort of spell, regardless of how vociferous she was initially.

The day was two, and Boq had written to his favourite cousin, however begrudgingly, of whom he had not known Miss Elphaba had taken a liking to. She did not ask after the naturally diminutive boy on their way to the auditorium, but rather, focused on gathering her cloaks so as to shield her lanky frame further from the looming, chilled fog that covered the grounds. Consuming her thoughts was the whereabouts of her roommate, who must have arrived to their destination already.

Elphaba thought, as she bent her shoulders inwards to hide from the morning nippiness grouchily, that if she never invited Galinda to speak of the other night, it would eventually be erased from time. Logistically, it was a senseless assumption, but for the green girl, who never had the opportunity to daydream about creatures of fantasy, she required some false nous for, at least, that day.

"You think she'll mention our toilet paper thing?" Crope asked groggily, emitting a yawn wide enough to catch innocent, passing flies.

"As an artist," Tibbet began proudly, much more conscious than the other two, "it was mightier, bolder work than last year, if I do say so myself."

"I didn't know enough paper could immobilize a closed door," Crope nodded, yawning again. The grey walls of the auditorium were visible from the distance, now. "The things you learn in a day."

"The both of you criminals devastated the entire west side of Three Queens; half of the boys escaped through windows," Wedekind scolded, though his mouth smiled. He was waiting for the post to arrive, grateful for taut economic partnership between his home and Gillikin.

"Crope and Tibbet might be committed to years of transgression, yet the underlying subject becomes Morrible's desperation to escape her own facility, like a thief fleeing his plunder so that the Gale Force recovers only evidence," Elphaba commented sourly, quietly, although her voice was always stony. Nessarose would say that Elphaba's voice was unsettling; how she much preferred a black bear lull her to sleep.

Wedekind peered at her peripherally. "Come again?" her beckoned politely.

Elphaba let her body convulse in a quick shiver. "What I mean to say is, we're being called to the auditorium this early so as not to delay our beloved headmistress on the morning train out."

"She's taking a vacation?" Wedekind wondered incredulously, his eyes widening so that his spectacles fell down his nose. He hastily pushed them up, careful not to smudge the lenses.

Shuffling her boots over tufts of dewy grass, though Crope and Tibbet chose to slide through it some safe paces ahead, Elphaba caught the Munchkin's eye, which she was able to maintain with her exotic, positively gypsy guise. "Welcome to Shiz," she saluted, not at all sarcastic.

-

The doors to the auditorium were unlocked but not pried open- someone was cautious to prevent the unexpected chill of morning from seeping into the giant, single room. Akin to a lecture hall, small seats bolted into the floor were set in rows, elevating in a semicircular manner about a small, wooden stage. Crope and Tibbet had complained of their discontent toward its size, for their plays were performed here, and they greatly disliked falling off the rostrum.

Wetness might have been absent from inside, but cold was ever present, and Elphaba was glad for grabbing her cloaks before rushing out the door. From birth, her eccentricities were more prominent than others, her own father affirming that she was an unusual sight, indeed; and so her tendency of early rising meant awakening before the sun. However, this morning was changed. She had been plagued by nightmares of things she swore off in her waking state.

Though Elphaba's atmosphere felt wintry and slothful, the small handfuls of students remaining for the break were not all shivering as she. A boy, propped up against two chairs, was sleeping with a poncho tightly swathe about his midsection, and others were wearing clothing that anticipated warmth for the afternoon while chatting will seldom breaths between, as socialites were so apt to do in the presence of company.

For instance, Galinda was already in the midst of a conversation with another girl, both their clothes similarly thin-strapped and pastel coloured. The other girl possessed mousy features, and if that weren't enough, larger-than-normal ears, but the shy smile flashed every once and a while at Galinda's words was enough to label her charming.

Elphaba only vaguely recognised her, hoping she wouldn't rudely comment if the green girl were to bud in on their conversation. The blonde's eyes strayed from her companion for a moment and caught her green roommate gawking, a smile spreading from her eyes to her glossy lips once Elphaba refused to look away. Then she bit her lower lip, and began stealing glances back and forth.

Behind her, Crope was leaning against Tibbet's shoulder, his slackened, slightly drooling mouth staining the boy's vest. Wedekind was checking the grandfather clock at the edge of the auditorium hastily. The green girl decided that they could do quite well on their own, and made her way toward her blonde roommate in the nick of time- for her company waved and dove into a row of seats.

Galinda's luxuriant knee-length, pastel blue sundress was imperial in comparison to the blanket-esque cover Elphaba held over herself, concealing a murky purple frock, as was their differing heights a sight to behold. Elphaba was not fond of sizing herself up, predicting the judgements of others; disobedient to hindrance by way of what she deemed paltry, and she hoped that Galinda, who favoured exterior, would not slink away with distinct cowardice displayed in the past.

"Good morning, Elphie! I was going to wake you earlier, but found myself in such a fix, were you perturbed upon awakening," the girl greeted brightly, slightly ruffling her skirts as she spoke.

"It's not as though there was anything important going on," grumbled Elphaba.

"Oh! You see, but that's why I rushed here," Galinda started brightly. "We have no other way of figuring who might have stayed for the break, being as nobody would dare spend time in the cafeteria. I mean, goodness! With off-campus practically being an enormous outdoor kitchen!"

Elphaba smirked, having eaten lunch in the cafeteria one day previous, but the blonde caught her in the act and mocked the expression. "Don't make that face at me, Elphie; what else am I supposed to do while you're locked up in Dr. Dillamond's laboratory, attaching human limbs to Animal parts from nearby graveyards and creating your very own politician? Twiddling one's thumbs gets tiring after the first few minutes, I have come to discover."

"You're positively hilarious this morning, you are," Elphaba shook her head, marvelling at how the blonde wasn't turning blue as her dress with pneumonia. "I've yet to wake up."

"I can tell- you've practically dragged your bed out with you," Galinda nodded toward the green girl's shoulders, draped in black material. She rocked back and forth in her heeled shoes, watching her roommate bitterly stare back, then suddenly parted her lips with an idea for conversation. She tucked loose strands of blonde behind her ear discreetly, "You see that girl I was just speaking to?"

Elphaba nodded. "We've never quite been introduced, but she's familiar."

The happiness in Galinda's expression plunged as she immediately spotted the girl again, then turned back to the green girl. "I just about destroyed any chances of social success for her at this school. And yet, she was so polite, even kind to me. How does that work?"

Elphaba inhaled sharply, feeling warmer now that she was contained by walls, and loosened her cloak. Often times, Galinda's definitions of things were more drastic, and certainly more dramatic, than the literal nuance. "It depends on what you've done, but really, this isn't a confessional."

The blonde's delicate facial features crinkled with discontent while holding a glance with the green girl, perhaps suggesting that what she had done was a completely normal classification of wrongdoing, however unlikely. Elphaba decided to keep talking. "I understand that associations are imperative for some, especially within business or family. But forgiveness is indispensable for a person's sanity." Galinda missed the apparent implication in the way the green girl was explaining. "If every flame was kept ablaze, all of Oz would have burnt down by now."

How many times could Elphaba have held against Nessarose the hardships that could have been another's, if not for her younger sister? What factors of their relationship would be different if Frex would stop blaming Elphaba for the death of his wife? Elphaba likened forgiveness to a skinned, bloody wound; as the latter is painful to touch, the former was harrowing to discuss, nevertheless indirectly.

Galinda must have felt the restlessness radiating from Elphaba's very pores, shuffling her feet. "You know, I never even remembered her name," she said quietly.

"The simple art of query and sheepish apology never hurt," shrugged the green girl, movement on the platform catching her attention. A professor was trundling a podium to centre stage. "I believe it's about to begin."

Galinda turned to see the professor barely miss rolling the podium from the edge of the stage entirely, and nodded in agreement. "Sit with me?" She laced their fingers together and led her green skinned roommate uncomfortably close to where most of the remaining students had converged.

-

Madame Morrible's meaty hands clutched each side of the podium as if it were the only factor holding her upright, her small, black eyes scooping the sparse crowd. Her attire resembled something close to travel wear; the shawl and cummerbund were evident, but the mass of lace and stripes running along every direction were a compliment to her immensely theatrical personality.

She was mid-way through a speech explaining that she had duties elsewhere, but would not specify as to why she was leaving; only that, if great discomfort should agitate a student, they would be able to contact her in the Emerald City.

Taking a seat near the front, Elphaba was forced to crane her long neck upwards in order to see their boisterous headmistress claim excuses. It were moments when she witnessed authority shirk their obligations that she, if not marginally, contemplated taking up post as Thropp Third Descending, completely out of spite.

"Furthermore!" thundered the headmistress, her painfully clear articulation coercing wakefulness upon her students. "I bring news before my departure, straight from the mouth of the Wizard, and-" she lost enthusiasm here, but only if one squinted, "tumbled along officials to be heard by student bodies everywhere." She took a great breath in, her pushed up bosom inflating enormously, then spoke upon exhalation, rolling her tongue and stressing at every antiquated word. "Remember the Oziad: 'Art thou not great to _conquer the_ _lesser_? Thou art _not_. Thou art great when the lesser need not be conquered, for they already _bow_.'"

The green girl could have sworn that Morrible's eyes had flickered to rest on her, if not for the slightest of moments. She tightened the grip of her crossed arms and sat upright, watching intently. Madame Head was often guileless and shameless in parades of cloth and fanciful words- but there was an ulterior impetus from time to time that could not be concealed by graceful hand waving and a finishing school accent. Perhaps she didn't want it concealed.

"I leave the remaining faculty in my place, of whom are more than capable of performing my responsibilities together," grinned the headmistress, her slathered rouge lipstick parting to bare teeth into a grin, having flattered herself. "As well as Grommetick, who shall report to me any _stunts_ attempted. Friday's wretched _spoiling _of Three Queens does not go unnoticed-" here, Crope and Tibbet shared a shoddily suppressed snicker, "-and nothing of the sort shall be replicated, else the measures of a ticktock creature cannot be monitored from a mistress quite a distance away."

Peripherally, Elphaba saw Galinda's face squeeze into pitiable anxiety. She knew the blonde was immensely unused to ticktock creatures, claiming it unnatural for scrap metal to move of its own accord, but to Elphaba, the distaste looked a lot more like fear. The green girl had her own doubts about this particular, Grommetick, whose loyalty to Morrible was ungainly _animal_.

It seemed a threat, however veiled, to mention the ticktock creature, which was probably sitting motionless in Morrible's office out of sight.

Morrible's beady eyes flickered toward the grandfather clock and howled. "Oh! My dear students, it would seem that if I prolonged this magnificent gathering, I should be fairly late in leaving it. I bid you a quick farewell," she tapped her long, pointed fingernails against the wood of the podium's face. "For those of you who have chosen to sacrifice your break for experience in the work force, I encourage and applaud your extended learning. For those of you who were rejected to return home," she smirked, cheek heaving to the side in way of the snooty expression. "Er, _very well_. Goodbye, all!"

With a mighty heave and a swirl of colour and fabric, Madame Head had leapt from the podium and hurried offstage. The green girl was invaded by a comical image of Morrible taking up her bags, which were settled just stage left, and waddling past the professor who was to remove the podium, knocking him over in her rush.

-

"_For they already bow_," Elphaba mumbled under her breath, holding her folded cloaks tightly against her breast, obsolete now that spring sunlight had strangled the wind's chill. If the matters of a headmistress abandoning her fortress for the frivolity of a trivial holiday were not suspicious enough, a very specific, bitter flavour of deception was apparent in the way Morrible's vast array of skirts and flesh swayed in the green girl's direction as she quoted the Oziad. "Honestly, who quotes the Oziad?"

Galinda was walking alongside her roommate, surprisingly timid, day purse flapping lightly against her waist. "The deeply religious?" she suggested.

Elphaba failed to swallow- something hard and incorrigible welled there in a matter of moments. Analyzing the subject, and the nature of Morrible's departure, would no doubt ruin her experiences that day in the laboratory. Dr. Dillamond had promised a breakthrough, though minimal, and spoke openly of celebration. That, too, worried Elphaba on the subject of Madame Head's leaving.

"The Oziad is a political volume," sighed Elphaba, swallowing again with no avail.

Galinda let out a frustrated squeak and skipped several paces to keep up with the other's practically frantic march. "Elphaba, stop walking so fast, this isn't a race."

The green girl studied Galinda for a moment, smirking. "That's yet to be decided," was vaguely heard beneath her breath. "It only makes me wary," Elphaba cleared her throat, hoping to gage her roommate, "as Morrible has never been partisan for minority, that the entirety of her speech was to warn us of Animals."

The blonde managed to slow Elphaba into easy strides by taking hold of green fingers and lacing them into her own. "That's silly," scoffed the blonde. "Her obvious warnings of that… damned ticktock thingy… unnatural, in every way."

The shudder that ran past the blonde's shoulders, one that radiated through the jitters that followed and a vacant, inward expression, her disapproval was most definitely a manifestation of fear. Elphaba bit the flesh of her inner cheek and pretended that it went unnoticed, a thing performed as often as the green girl's mind drifted to exactly how fascinating her roommate was.

"I could have sworn she'd peered at me, if not for a moment," insisted the green girl, halting abruptly and then waking with large strides again, as though forgetting her purpose. "That passage has been considered out-of-date for decades; and to claim it was word from the Wizard is utterly ridiculous. What does she know of the Wizard more than you or I?"

"I've never known anyone as cynical as you, Elphie," Galinda chided. "There is not one person at Shiz that you truly trust, is there?"

The green girl stole a sideward glance at her roommate and clenched her jaw. "That was completely hypothetical of you. By simply existing, we entrust more things to others like spreading disease."

Galinda scoffed, fluffing out her skirts with a free hand. "But there you go, likening trust with disease. Name one person here that you trust."

"I trust you, don't I?" Elphaba asked rhetorically, remembering the night before with a cringe. Accompanying their kiss was a tidal wave onslaught of passion and resentment for it; things the lanky girl could have survived with leaving alone.

Galinda smiled a little, perhaps secretive smile and rolled her eyes. "Besides yours truly, silly, that's obligatory; and even then, you have your moments."

Inhaling deeply gave the green girl a time to rack her brain for an excuse to prove Galinda wrong. Truthfully, Elphaba was a deeply sceptical person without shame for it; life and civilization lacked sincerity in her experience. Recently, though, recently, she had succumbed to the sheltered reality of university, easing into friendships that seemed so natural, within each participant's peculiarities complimenting her own. Although, Boq's infatuation for her roommate could hardly be branded as a peculiarity. But she would not let that go unnoticed.

"Master Wedekind," claimed she. Galinda connected her eyebrows to show her unfamiliarity with the name, but was silent. Elphaba lolled her head to one side. "I've entrusted my grade in languages to Master Wedekind, who, in turn, has entrusted his grade in life sciences to me."

The blonde quirked a brow and gave her roommate a sly, smoky look. "Why, Miss Elphaba, I hadn't known you were so loose with your future!"

Elphaba grumbled, though she was smiling. "We're tutoring each other during the break. Funny, actually, that we were quite engaged on Friday, when I upset you so."

Their hands broke apart; Elphaba's lazily fell to her side as they reached the building, but Galinda opted for cradling the hand to her naked cleavage, unsettled by the green girl's words. She recalled that Elphaba was usually surrounded by three boys, if not already by herself; Crope and Tibbet, and likely Boq.

The boy who accompanied them this morning seemed a new addition, what with his single, vacuous expression and large, indulged belly. Something stirred in the pit of the Frottican girl's stomach as she glared at her roommate, new suspicions gathering in her mind. They seemed absurd and irrelevant, but Galinda couldn't suppress the jealousy that was bubbling inside her. Was this break not promised to _her_?

They had arrived to the building with which Dr. Dillamond laboratory extended; a science hall that was under funded, but certainly not impoverished, what with it's high ceilings and antique furniture adorning the corridors. Elphaba glanced at the blonde, ready to part ways, but Galinda wasn't yet satisfied.

"Elphaba," she beckoned.

The lanky girl smirked. "Standing before you."

Galinda bit a thick, lower lip and impaired her speech slightly; it was becoming a nervous tendency that would no doubt mortify her socialites, and also displeased her, though she couldn't impede it. "What you said before the assembly, about forgiveness-"

The green girl swayed with the course of a gust of wind, as though devoid of a bone structure. "You were listening? I was almost certain you were daydreaming then," her eyebrows raised to crinkle her forehead slightly.

The blonde ignored her and continued, intent on reaching an argument. "Don't you believe that… Oh, I don't know… that Animals and their faction should be able to forgive those who are controlling them so dreadfully?"

As if intently mulling over the offer, Elphaba's legs halted as her eyes studied the entrance of the science hall, the cobblestone steps, Galinda's exposed legs, causing the blonde to blush bright crimson. Finally, she made a clicking noise with her tongue. "That kind of wrongdoing doesn't need to be forgiven," she answered quietly.

Galinda struck a pose on the walkway, a fist on each hip. "I though you said Oz would burn if everyone kept flames?"

Elphaba's head bobbed loosely on her slender neck, coloured lime in the bright sun, as she made her way up the steps. She did not cast a glance at Galinda, only replied while taking hold of the large entrance knob and pulling. "Those people didn't keep flames, they released entire symbolic forest fires." Before disappearing into the hall, she added, "See you later."

Galinda heaved a disappointed, exasperated sigh, looking around and trying to figure her way back.

-

The Goat was waiting in the dank laboratory once Elphaba had entered, seeming calm and preserved, his straightened, ironed clothing a mixed message in terms of their exercises for the day. Either side of his snout did not smile while the girl set down her cloak and bag, then began preparing without having to be summoned.

"Dear girl, has the split between you and Miss Galinda been mended?" he wondered.

Elphaba clenched her jaw and considered whether lying would be a valid response. "In a manner of speaking, yes," she replied, not looking up from her work.

It seemed the Goat was satisfied with her elusiveness, his face becoming grim as the next question was asked. "Were you present during the assembly this morning?"

The green girl ceased her work, eyes rising to meet the Dr. Dillamond's seeking, dark beads, which resembled Madame Heads'. "Yes," she answered simply, communicating more in one word than what could have been done with five.

This seemed to please the Doctor more than before, as he got up from his seat and clasped his hind hoofs together, at last smiling. "Right, then! There's much to do today!" His scratchy vocals rose to the triumphant tone that only seemed present in the lab. Elphaba smiled and let out a hand in order for him to precede her.

- - -

**And that, my friends, might just be the beginnings of a plot. Grommetick is the correct name, right? I don't have my book at home. The bestest gift you could ever give a poor, fanfiction writer is reviews, and so, I wish you all a happy belated Christmas!**


	12. Reaction of Routine

Disclaimer: **Gregory,** **Mr. I-own-Wicked-haw-haw-haw.**  
Note: **Finally! This chapter was 'close to being done' for days. Be it rushed or unconventional, it is here, and very, very queer. I couldn't help it.  
To NoodleJelly- Miss Elphaba Thropp, Thropp Third Descending of Munchkinland's thoughts may not align in this chapter, either, but let me ask you this: when one is blinded by the sinister bliss of slash fanfiction love, are they not expected to act oddly?**

- - -

That morning's warmth could easily be compared to that of thawing after a long chill. Draping oneself before a lit hearth after hours in the seasonal cold prove august and positively luxurious, much so that no one wishes to be torn away. A fireside's warmth, in its sumptuousness, may act as a sleeping draught to the exhausted; as was the turn in weather that Galinda's shoulders were fully exposed to. Her chest gradually became somnolent and her head lethargic.

As she ambled along the cobblestone steps away from the Sciences department, even the birds idly chirping solely out of obligation, the Frottican wished nothing more to be back within the covers of her bed; conveniently at her disposal. Now that even Madame Head had vanished from the premises, Galinda was exempt from chastisement of offences as obscene as frolicking about Crage Hall in nothing but her offensively revealing undergarments. Not that the blonde could- or would- possibly fathom the imagery, yet its excessiveness was potent enough to tire the likes of a ticktock creature.

When Galinda imagined herself safety sleeping in her bed, it was that which was left behind in her home in Pertha Hills; curled into fetal position with the sheets, snug from her slumbering, wrapping the girl from head to foot. And yet, it would seem the innocence of such a pleasantry was growing a bore on the Frottican, and her idealistic illustration of comfort was becoming not one of solitude, but of accompaniment in any bed at all, so long as her slumbering would be shared with the great Thropp Third Descending.

She mused, while unworriedly noticing the misfortune of walking adrift in an area of the grounds unrecognisable, that if she were to declare love for the person of such title, her parents would not disagree; of course, without first meeting _her_. It made the girl giggle, if not faintly.

"Would you open your ears and hear that, Tibbet?" came an echoing, buoyant voice, which signified but one thing.

"As a matter of fact, dear boy," was the inevitable reply to a conversation Galinda doubtlessly knew was being performed for her sake, "my ears are constantly opened. One might call it a genetic dysfunction, these dreadful holes at either side of my head. Me pa's got 'em, too."

"But would you hear that- it sounded like the distant call of a cuckoo Gillikinese girl!"

"Yes," Tibbet agreed, his tone of voice giving way to a grin, "during mating season. Rarely does the male ear experience it."

Galinda heaved a readying sigh and turned to face the pair who were, now that she caught view of them, conspicuously strolling few steps behind her. "That's where I draw the line and refuse for you to continue," she scolded, arching each of her arms out like porcelain handles to imply that each boy should take each arm, which they did.

Clad in matching Shiz colours, both boys were terrible at masking their enthusiasm for the invitation. The Frottican flashed a pretty smile, one practiced so often in a mirror that Ama Clutch could detect its falsify; as could Elphaba, by the way she would frown whenever it was presented in front of her.

It was not that she didn't appreciate the boys' company; in fact, they had grown onto her in such a way that instilled the fondness of brothers, however limited their time. She thought perhaps Elphaba might have felt this way, as well, being that the green girl seemed to supervise them more than any other enjoyment of friendship.

"M'lady." Tibbet teetered his head in a curt bow, voice obviously mocking Morrible's finishing school accent. "Where may we be escorting you this bright morning?"

"I was thinking of checking back to Crage Hall," answered the girl severely. Crope and Tibbet shared a look, then used their grip to raise her feet from the ground and steer her rearwards completely. A squeal elicited from her lips, and her feet touched the ground as quickly as they left to walk in the correct direction.

"Alley oop!" Crope grunted, grinning toothily at the diminutive girl. "I wonder what's on your mind, Miss Galinda, to have lost your way. Tibbet and I know every direction back to Three Queens."

"It's true," nodded the other. "We know every short cut on campus."

"Off campus," Crope added.

"Through alleys and under womens' skirts," Tibbet crooned fondly.

"Hitching a ride on the back of wagons," Crope said, almost dreamily. Then he resumed his grin. "Why the dorm? It's a splendid morning."

"I'm in need to freshening up before this afternoon's activities," she explained, not wanting the boys to think her desperate for Elphaba's return.

"Oh! An outing in town?" wondered Tibbet excitedly.

"You must tell us all about your mysterious company during this excursion," insisted Crope, whose walk was solid and poised in comparison to the female saunter of Tibbet's foot.

Tibbet simulated a noise of flatulence with his tongue to dismiss the other boy. "That's not important now, when we haven't yet heard of the other night," he told them sardonically, causing Galinda to blush the faintest hint of cherry.

Crope's expression became solemn as a he hummed in deliberation, looking at the blonde intently. "That's right," he agreed, "when we were thrown out after a great stage was planned."

Galinda could feel the hotness rising in her cheeks, undoubtedly accented by the light blush applied before the assembly, and couldn't comprehend why she felt this embarrassed. Usually, she was proud of her fluency in natter, especially when it came to impressing other girls with her aptitude for maddening boys. Not that she avidly played a temptress, for her discussions were admonishing when participants' commends were crude or liberal. She was a supercilious kisser; now, she felt like a naive private school girl caught in the act.

"Um," she began shakily, swallowing roughly, "Elphaba and I made up. It was over frivolous folly, our quarrel."

Tibbet waved his free hand dismissively. "_Of course_ you reunited your comradery- were we not around during Morrible's write-off? Remember the whole things about 'secret yearning'?"

Galinda bit her tongue thinking of how to word her discontent. "It's just-" she sighed, both boys leaning in despite their walking state with anticipation. "Well, I never really said it outright."

It were as though two valves had been released, for both Crope and Tibbet simultaneously let the air held in their lungs out disappointedly, as though they wouldn't hear Galinda under the sound of breathing.

"Surely you asked Elphaba this morning," assumed the girl desperately.

Crope straightened his back and slipped his free hand into his vest, as a plump businessman or colonial crusader might. "Miss Elphaba has never been one for gossip," he explained. "I may personally verify her dislike, having had inanimate objects thrown at me for making crude assumptions for the pleasure of conversation."

"We have yet to see such a violent reaction from any other subject," Tibbet said in an earnest tone deliberately set for mockery.

Galinda nodded her head with absent comprehension, thinking, _Neither have I, unfortunately_.

Tibbet sighed exaggeratedly girlishly and drawled, "I so hoped you, of all, would be able to incite something other than ice in Miss Icy Elphaba."

The blonde might have been finding herself in love with an entity far from the likes originally imagined and strategized, but she would not easily be discouraged in a challenge. In her status of social class, competition was wide and victors were minimal- but among them was Galinda.

"She's not so hostile," chided she lightly, casting her eyes downward in order to bat her eyelashes mysteriously. Tibbet's expression slowly grew into a triumphant grin, meeting Crope with a laugh that, if not for the insinuated ridiculousness, was in astonishment.

"Dear Miss Galinda, is it true?" urged Crope.

Galinda allowed herself a smirk. "True only if you never speak of it away from my ears."

Tibbet gave her a congratulatory pat on the hand, beckoning her. "You must tell us all about it."

Galinda pursed her lips into a half-smile, grateful for their presence. Finally she had someone with whom to discuss in detail her distress over Elphaba, even if there were connotations she wasn't willing to admit to anyone but herself. It was refreshing to the girl whose company was usually scandalized by the sight of a nick on the hem of a day dress.

"Well," began the blonde, reminding herself to suppress her giddiness with afterthought, "you had just left, and she and I had got around to a discussion of… our relationship."

Crope raised a mischievous brow higher than the other, his lips stretched to suppress a giggle. "So blunt?"

Shaking her head no, Galinda's curls bobbed with the obedience of unsullied preening. "It was masked by other subjects, of course. Simply speaking aloud before such things exist is the taboo of bad breeding," she elucidated with much conviction. "But then… she asked if it were okay to entrust her with something. I said, don't be ridiculous. And then-" the boys leaned in, "Well, it was the most surprisingly glorious kiss I've ever had."

"This is to say that it was Miss Elphie who kissed you?" Tibbet asked with utter doubt, his tone flattened.

The blonde flashed him a secretive smile, "I said she is not so hostile."

"And how was it?" beckoned Crope. "Was it open, closed? Were anyone's tongues involved?"

Galinda lolled her head to one side and whined, as though it were painful, "s this something I have to notify you of?"

Crope nodded, finding Tibbet's eyes and signalling for him to nod, as well. "Why, Miss Galinda, it's more mandatory than your telling us of the kiss in general."

There was an excitement in summoning up what would be most appropriate to describe Elphaba. The blonde mused that condensing experiences would be one of the greatest allures which drew a writer to his craft. "Er, it was quite unexpected," she began, "but it instigated innocently."

"You _escalated_?" cried Tibbet. "To what?"

Galinda gave a small shrug, shoulder aligning with collarbone. "To anything you could expect from a kiss, I suppose."

The boys took their turns hooting at her, a sort of celebratory mockery of Galinda's champion romantic behaviour, though she wouldn't dare verbalize her apprehension. She hoped dearly that Elphaba would not hear of this; doubtless she would swear the blonde away in discovery of flippant confession of what belonged wholly to only the two. And yet, it was Galinda's nature- her class and influence from raising- to have an open mouth- in a conservative sense. It was a fairly ironic trade; one could tell all of oneself and of others, yet most truths were veiled, for fear that they might leave one's house.

Galinda thought the boys were on verge of song before they ceased their rowdiness, hardly anyone on campus able to view their shenanigans, for which the blonde was appreciative. The majority of remaining students had not arrived to the morning's assembly, but those without jobs or within special operations were curious as to what Madame Head had to say for herself.

They had not time to watch Crage Hall grow in size before them, for the plain was flat and their heads were indolent from the morning's escalating warmth. Tibbet's strides were in time with Galinda's as he spoke, "You must admit what was said before your blissful moment."

"Actually, we were speaking of Boq," she replied nonchalantly, careless wither words.

The two boys completely stopped walking, their immobilization creating a jerking affect for the blonde, who failed to comprehend how transitional her words could be. If not for the arms encasing hers, which was the cause of the peril, she would have tripped and landed upon her expensively pretty face.

Tibbet's mouth was ajar in shock, whilst Crope's eyebrows were quite nearly at his hairline. "You mentioned Boq and Miss Elphaba kissed you?" Crope asked, having trouble closing his mouth after words escaped it.

Galinda bit her lip, apprehensive now that there was more than one similar reaction of adverse inference. She scrambled to redeem herself, "Not Boq, per se, but his pursuit after my heart. You see, she only meant that it is… it is…" she was lost for words, for the first time having to scrape up a reasoning for exactly why Elphaba mentioned Master Boq.

"It is rather troublesome?" Tibbet clucked with sympathy.

"Imagine that," burred Crope, "a magic word to provoke Miss Elphaba's sexual arousal."

Galinda sighed, "That's not what I meant."

They ignored her displeasure, as Tibbet struck Contrapposto and speculated, "Little Master Boq knows not the power he might possess over women."

"I quite agree," Crope could barely contain his giggles, a snort escaping. "A womanizer, through and through!"

They finally submitted to a fit of laughter, but Galinda could not tell if their yodelling chuckles were at her expense. Truthfully, this added little fuel to her fire of trepidation, but its efficacy was enough to adequately ruin her nerves. Recalling that fascinatingly uncalled for kiss, Elphaba's mentioning of Boq seemed to be halted and her aforementioned actions motivated by some other, abrupt thought.

"When you've spent your day's worth of ghoulishness, please call upon me," the girl growled at them, her eyes narrowed into resentful slits.

Another snort elicited from Crope, as he, it seemed when realizing what hurt their outburst could have borne, forced his laughter to die out. "Apologies, Miss Galinda," he curtsied by slightly bending his knobby knees. "Really, cast away your worries of Boq."

Tibbet administered a light whack to the other boy's arm. "Do not lose your wariness. It is arduous enough to retain a man's loyalty- but Miss Elphie is a completely separate classification, in a respectful manner."

"Or not!" giggled Crope.

Galinda nodded at them so as to agree, and convince herself too of believing their wisdom. The entrance to Crage Hall was just in her reach, an arm's extension away from wrapping neatly manicured fingers about the knob of one door embossed with Shiz's school emblem. It would likely still be cool as before the assembly within, but igniting the hearth before freshening for her afternoon spent with Miss Savanna would disentangle a problem so miniscule in comparison to seeking time alone to fester in the affliction Crope and Tibbet instilled.

-

"Blessed Unnamed God, could this be true?"

"Your dramatics are patronising me," Elphaba stated tediously, tapping the lead in her lithe fingers upon the edge of a textbook, the other hand supporting her sharp chin.

Wedekind shook his head no, spastically enough to have prompted a dishevelment of his circular spectacles, for which he pushed up again with equal muddling. Their text and reference books were sprawled and piled on their laps and the settee with which they sat, since every library closed inequitably prematurely than when the semester was in session, and so their studies were taking into the science hall. They sat in a stone corridor, on furnishings likely never utilized for their initial intention of comfort, which the two briefly jested of when their seriousness was roosted

"And yet it would seem you've a memory of Munchkin language in general," beamed the boy.

"Proving once again that I'm not all daft," Elphaba smirked, noticing the horizon's transformation from daylight to a pinkish haze.

"I never said that," defended the Munchkin. "I was merely reinforcing the expediency of your familiarity in Munchkinland. It may be exploited."

Elphaba folded her fingers nattily in her lap. "I wasn't exactly fluent as a toddler," she said drearily.

Wedekind shrugged. "You must tell me of it anyway. I am profoundly interested in the dynamics of monarchy."

"You'll have to ask an Ozma to receive that kind of oral anecdote, Master Wedekind," the green girl glared, unused to the attention to her blood that Wedekind gave. "Is your paper completed?"

It took a moment for the boy to register that it was his turn to speak, gazing at Elphaba, and the girl was unable to tell his exact expression for the spectacles that blocked her path. His torso wrenched, though, and he coughed, ruffling through the book bag that lay at his feet like a faithful dog.

"Ehm, yes, I have," he cleared his throat and produced a beige folder, thick with its contents. "Perhaps you could read it over to decipher whether or not I am condemned to failure?"

He held out the folder for her, and Elphaba flipped to the first page, reading intently. She made several tutting noises with her mouth for effect, and the boy looked flustered by the time she had placed the thing into her own canvas bag.

In the changing light, which now held an orange appeal, their own colours were changing, along with the reflection on the stone floor, which had turned a bright brown in comparison to the usual grey. The green girl knew it was her cue to part from the hall, though her own lesson was not quite ended.

"That's a lovely sunset," commented the boy, though Elphaba couldn't be precise as to whether he was actually looking at the horizon, or at her.

"If I agree, will you let me go?" she asked, gathering the rest of her belongings into the bag, then arranging it over her shoulder, folded cloak under her arm.

Wedekind sighed and adjusted his spectacles, inspecting the state of the rigid girl. "It would seem I have only false authority in the matter."

"Pretty much," Elphaba's boots connected with the floor and echoed throughout the empty hall. "Good evening, Master Wedekind."

-

The noblest thing a person could do when ones life was as secluded, one's experience as chaste, and one's heart as insecure would be to turn away from a kiss and all its uncouth propositions. Yet, the element of surprise has such lasting effect on the central nervous system that one could potentially experience slight jitters of confusion, even clandestine joy, after the moment one's body is rendered temporarily immobile in astonishment.

That would become Elphaba's excuse, as her eyes leisurely lidded and her shoulders relaxed after the jolt of shock declining down her body. She daren't touch the Frottican with her bare fingers, for the fear that the sensation emanating from the harmony of their lips might cease, or simply reaching out might confirm the non-existence of a fantasy.

Her bag slowly descended from her shoulder and hit the floor with a thump that shook the room, but neither flinched. At last, when they broke apart, Elphaba took up her bag and headed towards her cot of a bed, not once smiling nor peering back in reference to a woman who greeted her so intimately. The blonde stood airily for a moment, then gently closed the door into its frame.

The green girl noticed that Galinda had descended to her part of the room without locking the door. "Has Ama Clutch not returned yet?" she asked politely.

"Wherever she is spending the break off campus, its certainly proving the peak of her old age," mused the blonde, sitting at her vanity and modifying her hair. Already, she wore a light evening dress bearing hardly any distinction from the one worn during the day. "How was your day with Dr. Dillamond?"

Elphaba considered her reply honestly, laying a book upon her covers, as well as Wedekind's Life Sciences paper. "Wearisome," she concluded. "And of you, with the few survivors you managed to scrape up?"

Galinda sighed, sweeping a brush through her hair, the silver handle cool under her shaky, moist palms. "Fruitful, as far as autumn fashions go." She caught view of Elphaba smiling slightly in the mirror, her eyes deliberately searching to meet the blonde's. What was a ghost of affection was absent, and it seemed the green girl was searching for something, as though there was a high likelihood of a stranger crawling out of Galinda' vanity.

The blonde placed the brush down and addressed Elphaba, whose jaw was clenched in a way that suggested smiling. "Elphaba," she said sternly, "do you have any idea-"

"Do you realize what occurred that moment ago?" asked the green girl, her monotonous question striking Galinda. The blonde was silent, suppressing a few chastising replies that might smear her repute as a lady, since Elphaba obviously had more to add to the rhetoric. "That was the jaded reaction of routine. Secrecy possesses initial excitement- one that will swiftly diminish and become terribly burdening. Is that what you want?"

"Elphaba-" Galinda tried again, but the green girl's voice was laced with something crude. Her voice would not rise in anger, but her brows connected in a way somehow suggesting childish stubbornness, at least, to the blonde.

"Conduct enough of the same experiment, and you'll discover a pattern," the green girl spat coldly.

Galinda clenched her fist and relieved it, twirling around to face the tangible Elphaba, rather than the reflection. Having the conversation with a mere reflection of reality instilled what seemed so disquieting as fright in Galinda, and even Elphaba seemed a little startled that she was no longer speaking with manifestations of light.

"Elphaba," tried the blonde again for the third time, earning her roommate's undivided attention, "your 'reaction of routine' was a failure to admit that I kissed you- just the same as you had done to me prior evening. If you feel inclined to know what I want, that's perfectly apt, because that would be _you_."

The green girl quietly bowed her head, a hand on each knee that hung over her mattress. Her legs spread away from the bedding in a way that Galinda could never hope for, as her feet hardly touched the floor, and it would seem Elphaba was ruminating just that.

Galinda leaned towards her, though they were half a room separate, trying to decipher the green girl's expression. "So," she began slowly, treading over her words with utmost care. Elphaba was a loose cannon, as it were, "May I?"

Elphaba fondled the end of her braid, slack strands that were free from binding weaving in and out her fingertips. Her lips were parted, yet her teeth were clenched as she replied softly, "I may be the improper person to enquire, Galinda."

She let her back muscles relax and fell onto the covers of her bed, head hitting the edge of the textbook that lay near the pillow. The green girl did not speak after that, only laid down quietly enough to convince Galinda that she was asleep, save for her open eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered against the gas lamp's light near her face, the newly set sun leaving a shrouded cloak of black for them to squint against.

Galinda wished that she could repeat her roommate's actions and lay motionless in bed; yet, she wished furthermore for it to be one of the two already in habited in their quaint, Crage Hall suite.

- - -  
**If anyone is confused, there are two days spread over three chapters (from ten to twelve). And now, you must review. Ready? NOW! The gods of reviewing (depicted by Monsieur Purple Button) say now.**


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